


Sickness of the Heart

by Emriel



Series: Taken [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Happy Ending, Innocent Harry Potter, M/M, Manipulation, Master/Pet, Mindfuck, Romance, Soul Bond, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, glass cage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 01:30:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18728953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emriel/pseuds/Emriel
Summary: Owners sometimes do terrible things to ensure their pets never leave them. Some clip their wings or break their legs. And to the Dark Lord, Harry Potter was a precious pet, precious enough to hurt if it meant the boy would never get away. But what if locking the boy up was not enough? What if he wanted more?What if he did not want the boy broken and unfeeling? What if Harry Potter was not merely enslaved but willing and utterly his?





	Sickness of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be 5k words :D
> 
>  
> 
> _This is parseltongue or emphasis_

Harry didn’t know what made him so sure that he could stop Snape from taking the stone. But there simply wasn’t enough time to think about the consequences of jumping headfirst into danger when they knew that if Snape succeeded, it would spell trouble.

Harry said in an accusing voice, “You.”

The man by the mirror was wearing a familiar purple turban. He turned around and Harry’s face fell. “No. It can’t be. Snape… He was the one,” Harry couldn’t wrap his mind around why it wasn’t Snape staring back at him.

“Yes… He does seem the type, doesn’t he? Who would expect p-p-poor s-stuterring Professor Quirrel?”

Harry put his hand in his pocket, trying to feel for his wand.

“B-but… that day, during the Quidditch Match, Snape tried to kill me.”

Quirrel shook his head, “No, dear boy. I tried to kill you! And trust me, if Snake’s cloak hadn’t caught fire and broken my eye contact, I would have succeeded. Even with Snape muttering his little counter-curse.”

Harry’s eyes widened, “So Snape was trying to… save me?”

All of a sudden, Harry felt his scar hurt. His hand flew to it and when he put his fingers away, he saw it was wet with blood.

“I knew you were a danger right from the off. Especially after Halloween,” Quirrel said.

“T-then you let the troll in. I knew it. I knew something was fishy… they said you were never right after you went to Albania… but why? I don’t understand… Why are you after the stone?”

Harry watched as his professor’s eyes narrowed and the man gave him a considering look, “Very good Potter, yes. It was I who let the troll in. Snape unfortunately wasn’t fooled. He rarely left me alone.”

Quirrel continued, “It’s surprising that you know about the Philosopher’s Stone. But of course you do… I suppose I don’t need to waste my breath explaining to you how valuable it is. Anyone with half the mind would have taken the chance to steal it. I have no particular use for it myself, but it is necessary for my plans to come to fruition."

Quirrel turned around to gaze at the Mirror of Erised. He began wondering out loud, "Now, what does this mirror do? I see what I desire. I see myself holding the stone. But how do I get it?”

A raspy disembodied voice called out, **“Use the boy.”**

Quirrel turned around, with his wand high, “Potter, you heard him.”

“No.”

“Don’t be so quick to say no, Harry. I’m sure we can come to terms and reach a peaceful resolution. Don’t make me hurt you.”

Harry’s brows furrowed. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that he got it all wrong, that Snape, the bully who hated him from day one was actually trying to keep him alive. And that his defense professor, the man they all thought was a joke was actually the culprit. He was going to kill him—

“Come here, Potter! Stand before the mirror.”

And Harry walked forward, shakily until he was standing before it.

“Tell me, what do you see?” Quirrel had his wand digging behind his back and Harry had to swallow his fear. He wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to beat his professor. He had no other choice but to comply.

Harry remembered staring at the same mirror before, endlessly. Even now he hesitated to look at it, wondering if it was going to show him the same thing that made it impossible to stay away.

His parents.

Countless lives have wasted away in front of it, or so Professor Dumbledore claimed. Harry knew it would have happened to him too if Dumbledore didn’t move it.

If it showed Lily and James Potter, Harry swore he’d burn the image in his mind. He could almost imagine the comforting hand of his father and mother on his shoulder. Smiling at him.

But as he looked on, nothing happened. He could not see his family. He could only see his reflection and for awhile he thought that for the first time, the Mirror of Erised was broken, until his reflection reached from within his pocket and grabbed a blood red stone, showing it to him before putting it back.

His reflection gave him a cheeky smile and a wink and immediately, Harry had to check if it was actually there. His fingers casually reached inside his pocket and he felt a lump. He gasped.

For some inexplicable reason, he had the stone. It was inside his pocket. His breath caught in his throat. He tried not to let it show.

“Harry, what do you see?”

Harry tried to think of something. A lie.

“I’m shaking hands with Dumbledore.”

Harry racked his head for something more believable.

“I’ve won the house cup. And I see my parents.”

“ **He lies,** ” a voice echoed across the entire room as fire began to spread all around them.

Professor Quirrel got angry, “Tell the truth! What do you see?!”

“ **Let me speak to him.”**

“But master, you are not strong enough,” Quirrel tried to protest.

There was a sibilant hiss, in the air, “ ** _You need not question me._ I have strength enough, for this.**”

And Harry watched in horrified fascination as Quirrel unwrapped the turban from his head. Harry was scared at what he’d see there. Many rumours spread about why Quirrel kept his turban on but nothing prepared him for the distorted face that appeared from the reflection on the mirror.

“Harry Potter. We meet again.”

“Voldemort,” Harry acknowledged, his hands tightened on his wand.

“Yes, see what I have become? See what I must do to survive? Live off another. A mere parasite. Unicorn blood can sustain me, but it cannot give me a body of my own. But you have something that can… Something that conveniently enough, lies in your pocket! Give me the stone.”

“ _Never.”_

Harry knew instinctively who this was. He was facing Lord Voldemort. He cast a few elementary spells but Quirrel was faster. He tried to run but there was nowhere to run to, not when there was a ring of fire surrounding the room. He didn’t know enough spells to counter that.

Now he knew the reason why his scar was hurting all the time. Now he knew that all along it was because his professor was carrying the Dark Lord behind his head, as strange as that might sound.

“ _You speak parseltongue. How intriguing.”_

Harry turned around to see Voldemort looking at him with interest. There was a nasty smile on his face.

_“Speak what? What are you talking about?”_

“ _Parseltongue, the language of the serpents. There is no need to be alarmed child. It would be a waste to hurt you. There are very few parselmouths still alive. How about a trade? You mentioned earlier that you saw your parents. What if I told you there was a way to resurrect them? I know of ancient magic you can only ever dream of. Together, we can bring them back. If you do me one favor, I will do everything in my power to make this come true and you will have your family again.”_

In the mirror, Harry saw the faces of his parents, smiling at him.

Harry knew the offer was too good to be true. Yet some part of him was tempted. Some instinctive part that craved for acceptance, love and the affection he wished he had as a child.

“All I ask is for something in return.”

Harry took out the stone in his pocket.

“ _Yes, that’s it, Harry. Give it to me. Give me the stone. Come, Harry. Closer.”_

Harry felt as if a voice was trying to get inside his head and it made it very difficult to think.

“Yess… _I know what you are, little one. I can see it in your head, and this close to me, I feel a resonance, although barely… who would have thought the boy-who-lived would have a sliver of my soul. Together we’ll do extraordinary things.”_

Quirrel took the stone from his hands and whatever trance Harry was in broke.

“You liar.”

“Lord Voldemort does not lie. This gift, I will repay in full, child. As promised, I will spare you, and I will give you back your parents… but first, Quirrel, knock him unconscious. We have what we came for and more.”

A red spell came hurling towards Harry.

* * *

Upon waking up, Harry stared at the ceiling in quiet wonder. He reached for his glasses and found them on the familiar spot next to his bed.

Harry fully expected to see the Gryffindor dorm room. What he saw made him gasp and for his heart to come racing like a frantic drumbeat.

All of a sudden he was up and banging at the glass walls, screaming his lungs out. There was nothing beyond it, nothing but darkness. There was no door. Just cold glass and darkness.

“Let me out! Is someone there? Please! Where am I?”

Harry looked around him but it seemed like he’s been trapped in an abyss. There was no light except from the bright globe that hung above him.

Harry kept banging his fists until it hurt.

He was locked inside a glass cage.

He kicked it but nothing happened.

He slumped on the cold glass floor and waited.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and swerved his head around. He looked back and saw the white bed. On the table, there was a glass of water.

He ran towards it and chuck the glass against the wall, hoping that it was enough to break the glass around him but it only splattered water which quickly evaporated. He then decided the next best thing to do was to lift the table and slam it against it. With his small hands he tried to do it, repeatedly until his palms were red and raw from the effort.

But it hardly made a scratch. And when it did, it instantly repaired itself.

“No… No… Oh God.”

Harry gasped and groaned. He recalled that he gave the stone to Voldemort and they shot a spell at him which caused him to lose consciousness but after that, nothing.

Harry pulled at his hair and he couldn’t think of anything else to do. Moments later, he crawled back to the bed, utterly exhausted.

The glass of water was back where it came from, on top of the white table next to the white bed. Everything was white, even the bucket at one corner of the room.

'But why is there even a bucket?' Harry thought.

And then, Harry realized what it was for.

* * *

Harry wasn’t sure of the time. It might have been a day or two but with nothing but water to sustain himself, he already felt weak.

He’d made short use of the bucket and Harry hoped no one was watching when he did his business.

He was still wearing his Hogwarts robes and he was starting to feel filthy.

Harry tried not to let the thoughts bother him. At one point, he imagined he was talking to Hermione and Ron, but he’d wake up and apparently he was just dreaming. He was scared.

So scared of being alone.

He was used to it. But never for this long and it felt like it was going to go on for an eternity.

Later, a strange creature appeared with a silent pop. Harry was rubbing his eyes and hoped he wasn’t dreaming but to his surprise, the creature was still there, and with a snap of its fingers, he had a new sparkling porcelain white bathtub.

It was placed at the edge of the room. It even left a towel on the floor for his feet and another larger towel on the side.

It greeted him with a bow and Harry narrowed his eyes in fear and suspicion as it came closer.

“Clothes for master Harry Potter sir,” it said and with gnarled ashen brown hands and drooping floppy ears, it laid a white robe on top of Harry’s comforter and vanished with another almost soundless pop.

“Wait…”

But it was too late.

Harry stared at the strange new addition to his room for a while, and wondered what was Voldemort playing at, keeping him locked up in this cage with nothing but bare necessities.

He was so weak and hungry, but he felt so filthy so he crawled out of the bed and found himself inside the tub.

He might as well use the tub while he can manage it, and he itched to get changed.

* * *

There was a warm hand upon his forehead. He was laying on something soft and he felt the covers being pulled over him.

“You have a fever.”

Harry opened his eyes and saw the blurry form of a red eyed man with slightly wavy chocolate brown hair.

His scar hurt so he knew this man was Voldemort. Despite how human he looked.

Harry wanted to growl but all that came out was a soft plea of “Don’t touch me.” With what feeble strength he had, he wrestled the hand away.

Voldemort smiled, “You’re not in any position to dictate my actions, child—”

Harry narrowed his eyes, “You won’t get away with this. Dumbledore will—”

“Dumbledore thinks you’re dead. How many days do you think you’ve been gone?”

Harry couldn’t dare to guess. He remained silent as Voldemort’s tilted his chin so he could stare into his eyes.

“It’s been a half a year my dear child,” Voldemort smiled and began tracing the boy’s chin with his index finger.

“You’re lying. I only woke up a few… days ago,” Harry accused, getting some strength in his voice and then horror sunk in, “unless…”

“Finally using your brain, I see... Yes, you’ve guessed correctly. _I’ve kept you asleep. I honestly didn’t know what to do with you now that I have use for you alive. And then I thought, why not keep you as a pet?”_

“A pet? I-I’m not a pet. Don’t treat me like one.” Harry pushed himself up with a huff but collapsed when Voldemort pressed down on his arm. The man was leaning even closer and Harry could feel his warm breath on his face.

Harry closed his eyes. This was too much.

“All bark and no bite. You are whatever I wish you to be. I want you to behave. You’re being ungrateful. I have been nothing but kind to you, child.”

“What’s there to be grateful about? I don’t need your kindness.” Harry glared.

“You do not know what you’re asking for, Harry. Perhaps a taste of pain will mellow you down.” Voldemort immediately pulled the comforter away from Harry and placed his hand on Harry’s ankle.

“ _This is all your fault, Harry.”_ And just like that, Voldemort snapped the bones of Harry’s ankle. It made a solid cracking sound.

Harry was screaming. He tried to keep it in but it was painful as hell and it wouldn’t stop hurting. He looked at his ankle and saw how it bent the wrong way.

Voldemort was smiling, clearly enjoying this. As if seeing him in pain made him happy. When the Dark Lord’s hands reached for Harry’s other ankle, Harry was shaking his head. “No… No… please—”

“See.”

The hand dropped to Harry’s other ankle. Harry tried to grit his teeth and close his eyes.

Voldemort began caressing his ankle, “You do not want to anger me. In time, I can teach you the pleasures of pain but right now, when you are but a child, you should let me decide what’s best for you, my precious little horcrux.”

Harry had something to say about that but he promptly swallowed it and stayed quiet. He knew well enough from his time at the Dursleys that this wasn’t a battle he could win.

Voldemort placed his hand on Harry’s broken ankle and numbness began to spread around it. Harry tried to wiggle his toe but it was broken.

“If you please me, I will send a potion to heal this but if not, then perhaps you can live without being able to walk again.”

He tried to keep the tears in.

Harry looked away, still in pain and saw for the first time that there was light coming from beyond Voldemort’s form.

“Where… are we?” Harry’s voice cracked at the last part and Voldemort snaked a hand behind his back and propped another pillow behind Harry’s head. He then placed a familiar glass of water upon Harry’s lips before saying, “Drink, and I will answer the question.”

Harry drank greedy gulps of water, as if assaulted by a sudden thirst.

“Good,” The Dark Lord snapped his finger and the weird creature Harry thought he hallucinated of suddenly appeared again, and this time, with a bowl of soup. It disappeared again with a pop.

“Harry, what you see around you is the Chamber of Secrets, hidden underneath the very castle of Hogwarts—”

“We’re still inside Hogwarts?” Harry asked unsurely.

Voldemort frowned, “Do not interrupt me when I talk or is there a need for me to teach you manners, child?”

Harry pursed his lips and was reminded of the many times his aunt and uncle said the same. “I’m sorry.”

Voldemort gave him a long look that had Harry's breath coming to a stop. Harry didn't want to get hurt again.

“Many believe the Chamber doesn’t exist. That it is merely a legend however, what most people do not realize is that in order to enter it, one must speak Parseltongue, and the entrances are hidden cleverly in the castle. Only those who know where to look will find it. So even if I were to keep you here for years on end, no one will find you, my pet.”

‘I’m not your pet.’ Harry insisted in his head.

“This was built by Salazar Slytherin, my ancestor, the greatest of the founders four. Do you not think it is a magnificent sight to behold?”

As Voldemort said this, the Chamber lit up and Harry saw a statue of a monkey like man behind Voldemort. There was a pond of water and Harry’s room was smack in the middle of it. All around him, there were huge statues of snakes.

Involuntarily, Harry found himself closing his eyes, until Voldemort once again, placed his hand on the top of his head, stroking his hair. This was too much. Voldemort’s face was too close to his. This monster of a man.

His forehead felt as if it getting squeezed by an invisible hand.

“Salazar Slytherin kept a basilisk. She will protect you while I am not here. Do you want to meet her?”

Harry opened his mouth and closed it. He really didn’t know what to say to the madman.

“Harry, don’t be scared. She won’t hurt you. _Come here and show yourself to Harry.”_

A large monstrous snake appeared. The spines jutted around its head and it looked menacing. It almost looked like an amalgamation of a dragon and a snake. Its girth was thicker than a human body and it stretched the whole span of the chamber, slithering faster than he could ever run before coming back to wrap around the tiny glass room.

And Harry imagined that if she squeezed, she could break it and crush them from the inside.

One large eye rested beside them and it was the size of Harry’s head. An equally gigantic forked tongue tasted the air.

“ _The child is awake,”_ the basilisk hissed.

Voldemort grinned and said, “ _Hello there, beautiful one. Have you enjoyed the meal I brought you?”_

The snake seemed to vibrate, “ _Yes, master. It was delicious. I am in need of more.”_

_“Then you shall have more. Your hunger knows no bounds. It pleases me that you are eating well. It is almost a miracle you’ve survived for hundreds of years without a meal.”_

_“My former master ensured I slept well. How is the child?”_

“ _He is safe now. You’ve done your job, Elicia. You have my thanks.”_ The snake coiled around the cage and settled its head upon its own coils very slowly, hissing, “ _I live to serve_.”

Voldemort turned to Harry who was very still on the bed.

Harry felt cold sweat and he closed his eyes instinctively when Voldemort leaned until their foreheads touched.

“You’re still burning up. She found you submerged in your bath and if not for her, you might have lost your life. It was a mistake to leave you unattended so I have assigned a house elf to watch over you. How are you feeling?”

The boy visibly shivered. “I.”

He hadn’t eaten in days. He hadn’t seen anyone in days. Alone with his thoughts, he kept on hallucinating, losing his mind. He was lonely— His stomach hurt.

“If you do not speak, then one day perhaps, I will remove your tongue. It seems like you have no use for it.”

To this, Harry forced a weak, “No. I just… it’s hard to talk. My throat… hurts—” because Harry was trying his best not to give in to the urge to cry.

“I’m fine.”

Harry settled for a lie.

Voldemort frowned at him. He clearly disapproved.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you keeping me… inside this glass cage… like I’m some animal?”

“Because you’re my pet, Harry. And pets need to be trained.”

Voldemort kissed his forehead and Harry hurled his body away, inching closer to the other side of the bed, close to the wall which felt very cold. He grabbed the comforter and wished he’d disappear with it.

‘Stay. Away. You monster.' His thought’s screamed

“You’re sick,” was all Harry managed.

“That I am.” Voldemort didn’t deny it and he unceremoniously pulled the boy to him by dragging his injured feet, causing the boy to wince. With the help of magic, he had the boy in his arms until Harry was straddling his thigh with the boy’s front to his chest.

Harry slumped forward and gasped, seeing the room spin. He resisted the urge to vomit.

“How long are you going to keep me here?” Harry asked after the room stopped spinning.

“For as long as it takes for you to learn.”

Harry tried to push himself away, but Voldemort steadied him, with warning look.

“I have potions that should help with the fever, but first you must eat something. Three days of not eating left your body weak. We’ll have to rectify that.”

‘And whose fault is that?’

Harry squinted at the white blur that Voldemort pointed at, “Where are my glasses?”

“Right here,” The Dark Lord placed the spectacles on Harry’s face and instantly, he could see a lot sharper.

The snake around his cage looked a lot scarier too and when he looked up, he saw the handsome face of the Dark Lord giving him a pensive look.

Voldemort was not just some hideous face at the back of his Professor’s head. He was a proper human being now, whose face was that of a man in his early twenties it seemed. Harry wanted to pull away when he saw the smirk.

“Anyone who ever wishes us harm, she will kill with just one look in her eyes. Seeing her reflection will turn others into stone. Her venom is quite lethal. One dose is enough to kill an elephant in a matter of seconds. However, with us, she is as harmless as an adoring child.”

The basilisk undulated with her body, hissing with its forked tongue. “ _She’s a very intelligent creature indeed. Able to understand human speech if she wishes to.”_

Harry didn’t understand the fascination that the Dark Lord had for the large snake but let it slide.

“I do not have long. Seeing as you can barely sit up by yourself, I’ll have to feed you and if you do not cooperate, the longer this fever will last and the more likely I’ll have to punish you again.”

“I can do it myself.” Harry mumbled quietly against the Dark Lord’s chest.

“I do not have patience for your disobedience. You must eat. If you do not do this for me, I can think of a number of ways I can make you wish you did. I can break more bones, render you blind, boil your blood… the list goes on. So, what will it be, Harry?”

Harry trembled, and before he knew it, he was crying. Harry raised his hands to wipe the tears that kept coming.

He felt so helpless. Scared.

Harry couldn’t help it. He wanted to be back in the Gryffindor room with his friends. He wished he wasn’t here, trapped in a cage with a madman who wanted to torture him.

His fever addled mind was coming up with very vivid ideas of how Voldemort would hurt him and how he wouldn’t be able to fight back.

“D-don’t… hurt me… please. I’ll eat.”

Harry found arms wrapping around himself and a hand making soothing motions on his back.

“That’s good, Harry. I didn’t mean to scare you… You are after all, still a child. Harry, I won’t hurt you unless you deserve it. There is no need to fret.”

Voldemort sighed and tilted Harry’s chin and made sure the boy was looking at his eyes.

“ _Eat_.”

Harry felt the compulsion reverberate in his entire being. It was as if his body had been rendered into a puppet and followed the Dark Lord’s will. Pleased, Voldemort kept the spell without compunction and fed him slowly, spoonfuls of white cream, that turned out to be mushroom soup.

It was warm and delicious. And soon, Harry almost forgot whose lap he straddled. Too soon, the bowl was empty and Harry craved for more but Voldemort warned him, “You have not eaten for many months. We’ll need to get your body to adjust to solid food again. I know you’re still hungry, but you need to be patient, Harry. Tomorrow, I’ll have the elf bring you fruits.”

And then, there was another glass of water, followed by vials and vials of potions.

“You won’t be needing this anymore.” Voldemort took away his glasses and when he did, Harry was surprised that he could see clearly.

“Just one more vial, Harry.”

It was a dark purple potion. It smelled sweet. Tasted sweet.

Upon drinking it, Harry felt his heart constrict. A wave of vertigo followed and he collapsed fully against the Dark Lord, unable to support his weight. Entirely too weak.

“W-what… was that? What did I just drink?” Harry asked. By now his vision was freckled with spots. He was seeing two Voldemorts.

“While there is a very small chance of you escaping that it is next to impossible, I need something to ensure that you will never be able to, even if I were to take you out of your cage. Don’t worry, it won’t kill you. Not yet.”

“No… no… I don’t want this… Let me go… please.”

Voldemort’s form was getting fainter, and fainter. Harry thought he was losing consciousness.

Harry found himself being carried back to bed and there was a faint sensation of something warm pressing onto his forehead.

He was sinking into his mattress, as if it was made of sand.

“Rest.”

* * *

There was a bowl of fruit next to the glass just as Voldemort promised.

There was something else, a note which said,

**_Lord Voldemort does not break his promises._ **

**_I’ve brought you your parents._ **

Outside of the glass cage, he saw what seemed like his mother and father.

**_I stole them from their graveyards_ **

**_Nothing but bones._ **

**_Now they have flesh._ **

**_Their skin will regenerate in time._ **

**_They will be as good as new._ **

**_I doubt they have any sentience in them._ **

**_I have yet to perfect the art of necromancy._ **

**_For now, this will suffice._ **

Harry found himself inching away from the corner of his room when his mother’s corpse stared back at him and started crawling for him.

Lily Potter was clawing at the wall. A vacant stare. Drool forming at the mouth.

**_I hope you enjoy my gift._ **

**_-LV_ **

Harry couldn’t breathe. He was gasping.

“No… no… this is just… _Voldemort… Voldemort please… I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want them. I don’t…. No… Don’t let them in. Please don’t let them in.”_

James soon joined her and Harry closed his eyes when James decided to take a bite of Lily’s shoulder.

Harry stumbled out of his bed and went to the very center of the room. He pulled on the comforter and wrapped it around himself, rocking back and forth. He closed his eyes and prayed to any god that would hear him.

* * *

When Voldemort visited again, the man slowly unwrapped him from the cocoon of white.

Harry gazed at him dazedly and did nothing when the Dark Lord wrapped his arms around him in an embrace.

Harry found himself pressing closer, shivering. He was clamouring for something familiar. For something his mind could hold on to because staying by himself and looking out to see what has become of his parents was too terrifying.

Voldemort was warm. He felt like home. Something from within the Dark Lord was pulling him in, and it felt like it was made of the softest of cotton, a warm fire. Being so close to Voldemort, he could hear his heartbeat. It was steady and his breathing evened out with it.

Harry didn’t know how long he stayed there and why he found himself hugging back. He told himself he missed human warmth. He missed the feeling of safety.

Safe...

It felt like he could breathe again. A precious moment where he thought that everything was going to be alright. It felt good to let go and not think and just be comforted by the hand that rhythmically stroked his back.

No words were spoken.

Just calm.

Never ending.

Completeness.

Harry hadn’t felt this before, perhaps because he was so busy being angry but the Dark Lord felt like _home_ …

And it was so **horribly** wrong but Harry didn’t want to even think of how wrong it was because if he did, if he opened his eyes—

“Harry…”

He belonged here. He belonged to _him._ Like a dream.

“Are you… real?” Harry found himself asking.

”I am.”

Harry could not sleep. He’d been awake for two days. He hadn’t even touched his food. He’d been crying for hours. He was going mad just moments ago, staring at one spot on the wall that looked as if it was dirty. Clutching at his chest because he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but cry, and stare at that spot—

“Harry, touch me.”

Harry looked up, and saw Voldemort’s red eyes. The irises were not completely red. No. There were thin minuscule stripes of blue, gray and brown, but it was almost as if it was muted by the overpowering red.

The slit pupils dilated even further as he reached out with his hands to touch the Dark Lord’s face.

Voldemort’s face was warm. And when he smiled, Harry smiled back.

He had thick lashes. Thicker than what Harry had. They fluttered open and close every so often. Rosy lips, a pink tongue that darted to wet it. A casual curl left astray on the Dark Lord’s forehead, when everything about him seemed so composed.

Perfect.

Handsome in the classic sense. And yet he was the Dark Lord who murdered his. _Parents._

And the terror came back again, relentless. Harry found himself struggling. Even with the tightening of the Dark Lord’s arms, he couldn’t suppress the fear.

His eyes were wide open. It flitted from left to right, looking for the corpses. And when he dared look away, to peek outside the glass wall, the corpses of his parents were gone. But he searched for them. He knew they were there. They were hiding somewhere.

Harry was pointing outside, his fingers jabbing in the air, arms shaking, “My m-mother… and father… are they… gone? Did you get rid of them? Where are they?”

“I didn’t think it would upset you this much, Harry. You wanted to be with them. I merely granted your wish.”

Harry tried to inhale and exhale but he felt like his lungs wouldn’t take in the air.

“I… wanted… them alive. I want them… but… not like this. They’re—”

“Shh. Like I said… we can bring them back, together. Perhaps it was too sudden… I thought you would love having them back. This is only the first step. Their bodies are alive but they lack souls. Once we manage to find a way to tether their souls, they will be resurrected. Nothing is impossible with magic.”

Harry looked up to see Voldemort smiling down at him. His red eyes, gazing into his, and Harry felt his thoughts come undone.

Harry scooted backwards and hit the bathtub. “No… I don’t want… Please... Just stop...”

Harry tried to look away. To look at something else. Anything other than the Dark Lord. He closed his eyes.

“Harry, I’m not going to hurt you,” Voldemort said gently. He approached the boy like he was handling a cornered animal.

The boy stopped fretting but was still unable to look at the Dark Lord’s direction, “I don’t believe you…”

“I only wish to take care of you, child.”

Harry shook his head. “Don’t… touch me. Please. Leave me alone.”

Voldemort ignored Harry’s wishes and soon he was inches from touching the boy’s face, “Don’t be _difficult, Harry.”_

Harry was too scared and desperately wished for the Dark Lord to stay away. It was this wish that called out his magic.

It turned violent.

The Dark Lord was faster, putting up a shield.

Voldemort’s index finger bled. A whizzing sound followed, ricocheting on the walls, and Harry watched with wide eyes as the glass walls seemed to form splinters and cracks, before reforming itself.

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. The air around him froze.

“Ahhhg!” Harry screwed his eyes shut as he clutched at his scar feeling the seething anger even when Voldemort gave nothing away.

“You tried to hurt me,” Voldemort accused.

“I didn’t… mean to. I swear… just didn’t want you to come… close… I’m sorry… please don’t hurt me.” Harry was begging now, because his scar felt like hot iron was being branded onto it.

Harry was shivering. He could feel the magic rising around Voldemort. Could feel it lick at his skin. His breath hitched when the bleeding finger touched his lips.

“Clean this off, Harry.”

Harry stared at the offending digit and shook his head.

“My pet, my patience runs thin. _If_  you do not do this, be prepared for what I have in store for you. Lick it clean until not a drop of blood is left.”

He hesitated, flinching when Voldemort pressed his fingers past the folds of his lips until it touched his teeth.

“ _Do it._ ”

Harry opened his mouth and stretched out his tongue. He licked the finger and immediately tasted the metallic tang of blood. He had to swallow it too because more kept trickling out.

As he did this, Voldemort smirked and began chanting something in a weird language. Harry hesitated but something inside his head urged him to keep going.

And as he did, the pain of his scar became numb.

Voldemort took his fingers out of Harry’s mouth and Harry watched as a trail of his own saliva followed.

“Good. Perhaps there is still hope for you... However, I am still displeased, Harry. You still fear me, and you still refuse to accept me as your master. Even now, I can hear your thoughts. You wish to escape. You wish for someone to save you. Well, we can’t have that. It pains me to do this but I must break you into your role.”

Voldemort stood up and dusted his robes. He stepped away from the child and began talking and it was filled with contempt, “I have given you the luxury of clothes when you do not deserve it so starting today, you will not be wearing anything. I have given you water and fed you myself when I could have simply left you to starve. I allowed you to speak your thoughts. I gave you a bed. I kept you warm. I left you a bucket for your excrement. I even gave you a table. I fixed your eyesight. I gifted you your parents. You remain ungrateful.”

“I… I—”

“You do not speak unless I say so.”

Harry could feel dread mounting. He wanted to beg but he knew he couldn’t. He wanted to say something but the Dark Lord seemed resolute and he knew instinctively that it would only get worse if he said something.

“You will lose all these liberties. You will have to earn them from me. Then perhaps, you will be thankful for the things I give you.”

Voldemort inhaled and called out harshly, “Dobby!”

A pop, and the very same house-elf popped. “M-master V-voldemort sir-”

“Get rid of everything in this room except for the boy. Do it fast.”

Dobby gave Harry a look that screamed of pity and with a snap of his fingers, everything vanished one by one, even his clothes. Harry curled upon himself, mindful of his sudden nakedness. “Why… are you doing this?”

“This is your punishment for hurting me, Harry. And you will refer to me as your master, from now on.”

Harry shivered.

For a moment, Voldemort was content to circle around the boy. He then turned to Dobby.

“Get me some milk.”

Dobby popped out and popped back in with a pitcher of milk. Harry stared at it and as he did, his stomach began to growl.

Voldemort looked at the house elf and said “Leave us.”

Dobby bowed and left, looking as if he was about to cry.

Voldemort smiled, his pupils narrowing into vertical slits.

“Now then, boy, this is how you will drink.”

The Dark Lord poured the milk on the floor and dragged the boy with his hair until his face was pressed onto the puddle of milk.

“Drink everything because you will get nothing from me until tomorrow. If you don’t, I will curse you. _Do not test my patience, Harryyy.”_ Voldemort hissed.

Harry felt his cheeks grow wet with something else other than milk. He swallowed the shame and began licking, afraid that his _master_ would do something worse.

When he heard the shuffling of clothes, Harry tried not to look.

But when he did look up, he saw the Dark Lord jerking himself off and hissed, “ _Keep. Drinking.”_

Harry tried to but he was hyperventilating.

He was choking. And he was sobbing.

Voldemort came and his cum splattered all over the milk on the glass floor. Some even landed on Harry’s hair and face.

Harry was shaking when Voldemort pulled him close.

The monster had his arms wrapped all around him and Harry wanted to push him away but remembered what happened the last time he tried and wished for something like that.

So he stayed still.

There was a delicate kiss on his forehead, and then, the Dark Lord vanished into a trail of black smoke.

* * *

The sun wasn’t there to tell the time of the day.

But Dobby was there like clockwork. The elf carefully rearranged his meal on the floor. It was soup.

Harry tried to eat it with his hands, but Dobby cast a spell that tied his wrists together and Harry’s face fell flat on the floor. It hurt and it felt like it would bruise.

“Sorry… sorry… Dobby is sorry… but Master said to use only your mouth. No hands.”

It popped away and stayed looking at him from afar, hiding behind a snake statue while muttering, “Bad Dobby. Bad Dobby,”

Harry tuned him out, and inched forwards, almost like a worm but it was exhausting. He tilted his naked body sideways and extended his neck, closer, so he could take an experimental lick at the soup.

It was good.

His stomach growled for more.

Soon, he decided that it was better if he knelt over the puddle. He maneuvered his body to sit on the balls of his feet and leaned over. It was humiliating. It was demeaning.

Harry hated every single second of it.

But there was nothing he could do.

* * *

His parents were back.

Harry observed them with tired eyes as he tried his best not to give in to the urge to pee.

He didn’t want the entire room to smell… but eventually he had to do it. So he limped to one corner of the room, and hoped it wouldn’t spread. The smell was nauseating enough. He didn’t want it sticking to his feet.

Harry sighed and sat on the far corner away from the spot with drying yellow.

Then he heard the pop.

It was Dobby.

“Dobby… Please… can you… get rid of it. Please...”

“Dobby must not help Harry Potter… sir. Dobby must punish himself. Dobby has been a very bad elf. Dobby is under strict orders—”

“But the smell! Please…it’s all I ask...”

Dobby began hitting his head against the glass wall and Harry looked away.

“No, no. Stop. Stop… hurting yourself. I only want one thing. Just one thing! Can you do it?”

“Dobby is not sure if Dobby is allowed to—”

“Then ask him! Go… I can’t… I’m going to get sick. Please.” Harry was willing to do _anything_ just to get away from that smell.

Dobby nodded and popped away. It felt like an eternity when the house-elf popped back. He looked very sad and it shook his head. His ears were drooping even lower. He handed him a message, with a familiar neat and cursive script.

**_This elf is not your friend._ **

**_Its only purpose is to watch over you._ **

**_You are not allowed_ ** **_to talk to it._**

**_If you do so, I will know._ **

**_I do not care one bit if you must wade_ **

**_in your own excrement_ **

**_or if the smell is deplorable enough_ **

**_to make you sick._ **

**_You will suffer._ **

**_Only I will decide_ **

**_when the punishment is over._ **

**_-LV_ **

* * *

Harry tried to have conversations with Dobby in his head. And Dobby looked as if he was suffering even more than he was.

He wasn’t bothered by the smell anymore. To Harry, it was like one of the things you learn to live with. If you start accepting it as the norm, then it wasn’t that big of a deal.

He tried to be optimistic.

But sometimes he’d breakdown.

Sometimes Voldemort would come and cast the cleaning charm himself personally… but that was only when he was in a good mood.

Time was a strange thing, because there was no way to tell it. He tried etching on the walls but no matter what he did, he could not even make a dent or even scratch it. It seemed as if it had the ability to repair itself.

He’d grown desensitized to the walking corpses of his parents. Their skin was growing back and they were starting to look like normal humans, except the pallor of their skin was still wrong and there was a vacant look in their eyes. They kept bumping into things.

They were nothing like the parents he had in his head.

He was starving again.

Then, he remembered that there was one other he hadn’t bothered speaking to. He was afraid of her but now he really could use some company.

“ _Elicia.”_

The basilisk appeared in a heartbeat.

“ _Child, you called.”_ Its massive body wrapped around the walls and Harry felt a little less afraid when he only wanted company.

“ _Can you let me out of here?”_ Harry asked, hopefully.

“ _That_ _is against master’s wishes. You will remain here for as long as he wants.”_

“ _I don’t like it here… I want to go back to my friends.”_

_“Master says friends are unnecessary.”_

_“...yeah. He said that too in the letter but… I’m so lonely… and I’m going insane. Is that what he wants?”_

Harry thought the basilisk wouldn’t answer until it began moving. Harry saw how the basilisk’s scales seemed to open up and flex.

“ _Master wants many things. He has not shared his plans for you… I am only here to guard you.”_

 ** _‘I have not given you the permission to talk to her, Harry. You truly are pushing your boundaries.’_** Voldemort’s voice echoed in his head, and it was followed by a pounding pain on his skull.

Everything started spinning. He collapsed inside the cage, his body unmoving. His pupils blown wide.

* * *

_“Surrender to me, Harry. Stop fighting. Why do you resist acknowledging me as your lord and master? It will stop the pain.”_

_Harry struggles away. He shakes his head. He feels trapped. Trapped like a little butterfly in a spider web. And he is dangling into the maws of a spider._

_Voldemort sighs and kisses his forehead. “You will break. Into little pieces and we haven't even started yet.”_

_There are kisses. A jaw that opens too wide. Teeth pressing onto his shoulder before taking a bite. He is being eaten alive._

_All the while, Voldemort is smiling. Telling him, “You are so precious to me… So precious.”_

_Tearing through muscle. Sinew. Bone._

* * *

Harry woke up gasping. With what feeble strength he had, he started banging at the walls.

“Help! Help… somebody. Please. Help me. Please let me out!”

He banged until his fingers bled

He started running against the wall. Trying to hit it with all its might. He screamed.

“HELP! I’m here. Someone! Anyone…”

He let his body rest on the wall, sliding slowly back down to the floor as he started staring at one spot.

He began counting, the snakes. The tiles of obsidian. The many lines on his hands.

Anything to stop the nightmares from coming back.

And Harry stood up. He ran towards the wall, pushing with his arm, uncaring if it broke it. His hands, calling forth his magic.

IT was cracking.

Reforming.

Until all the walls have clouded into a thousand million spider webs. Until a piece of it shattered, and that one piece was a shard that cut through his hands, and yet he kept pushing.

But soon he was exhausted, and all that remained on the pristine walls was red.

* * *

Voldemort was displeased with him. “What is this?” The Dark Lord gestured at the bloody walls.

Harry looked away, trying not to say anything. ‘Maybe if I don’t speak. He’ll get bored of me and go away.’

“Do you not see that there is no point in wishing for freedom?”

Harry just curled up into a ball and dug his own nails into the palm of his hand.

Voldemort pried them open and expelled an irritated breath, huffing as he used his magic to freeze Harry.

“Stop hurting yourself.”

Harry found his voice then, “You seem content to leave me alone. Why does it matter if I want freedom? Isn’t that normal? You locked me up. You don’t visit me for days. Why do you care if I hurt myself? I want to die. It’s better than living like this.”

“Your life is precious to me. Only I have the right to hurt you. You hold my soul, and because of that you are mine. Instead of learning your lesson, it seems like you’ve only gotten worse.”

Voldemort took out his wand and cast his favorite curse, “Crucio.”

Harry twisted and started clawing at the floor. Breaking a nail at the process and gritting his teeth so hard just so he wouldn’t make a sound. He wouldn’t give him the liberty to hear it. He would not break again. He knew what the Dark Lord wanted. He wanted him weak. He wanted him to scream.

But it was too much and Harry opened his mouth and he groaned in pain. And as the curse went on, he began screaming and it echoed in the walls.

Then it was over and Voldemort was looking at him like he was a pest he couldn’t wait to crush.

“Since you want your freedom so much that you’re willing to risk my ire, I will give you one chance, Harry. The walls are not unbreakable. If you exert enough magic, it will shatter. I want to see your magic.”

Harry was still shaking on the floor when he felt water sprinkle from above.

The Dark Lord casually stepped out of the encasement as if it was immaterial.

The shower of water soon began filling his tiny glass room.

Harry struggled to get up on his knees but fell down with a small splash. He crawled towards the wall, where the Dark Lord was but a hair’s breadth away.

He pressed on the glass.

“Don’t do this. I’ll be good I promise. Just don’t. It’s so cold.”

He banged on it.

“Please. Don’t.”

“You do not even address me properly. I am your master, Harry. Say it.”

Harry threw away his pride. “Master… master… please. D-don’t—Ahhg. “

The water was rising and it was ice cold. His breath was fogging. His teeth were chattering. Soon, Harry had to rely on all his willpower to push himself up, and when he succeeded, he was panting, his cheeks red, and his eyes closed.

He had to stand because if he didn’t he’d be submerging his entire head in water. His hair was damp and it was hard to see from the amount that continuously poured from above.

He held onto the glass as the water swiftly rose up to his knees. “No more… I didn’t mean to… hurt you. I just wanted… I won’t wish for freedom anymore… Master. Please. Stop.”

Voldemort conjured a chair for himself and began conversing with Elicia.

Harry kept banging his fists but there was no point. Voldemort wasn’t listening.

Harry couldn’t swim. He knew this. He knew that if the water reached higher than his neck, he’ll drown. The sound of his frantic movement and frightened gasps echoing all around.

And he wasn’t sure if he could count on his magic to save him.

It kept rising. He tried to stay warm by moving around, but every movement expended the little energy that he had.

“Master,” came his pitiful cry.

The water was up to his chest now. Harry was crying. His magic was roiling too, trying to break open the glass encasement, and Voldemort watched with interest as splinters started forming.

“Please... Can’t… cold… it’s cold.”

The man came closer, inspecting the walls, wondering if the boy had enough magic in him to break his enchantments. Smirking all the while, as he pressed his own palms, hissing in parseltongue, “ _Show me the power I know not.”_

Harry’s face fell.

Water was all around him. Frigid, and soon, Harry felt his leg cramp, because he had to continue hopping on the tip of one toe in order to breathe.

It reached his nose and it burned when he inhaled it, the pain going straight to his head.

He was going to drown.

He was going to die. Drowning. With the Dark Lord smiling at him.

**_Are you sorry, Harry?_ **

He heard it in his head, and Harry couldn’t think. Could only wish for the pain to stop.

The water filled the cage to the ceiling and Harry held his breath. But eventually, he couldn’t.

And everything was blurry.

White.

.

.

‘Sorry.’

.

.

* * *

The water vanished and Harry curled up on the floor, coughing his lungs out. He was shaking so badly. He still felt so cold.

Too cold.

Voldemort stared at him and disappeared only to reappear within the cage.

He raised a hand and soon Harry was spread eagle and floating before the Dark Lord, coughing and gasping.

“ _You are not allowed to harm yourself. Only I can hurt you, Harry. Remember this. Remember that I own your life. I own you…”_

Harry felt the magic holding him up disappear and he found himself wrapped in Voldemort’s arms. He was so warm.

So warm.

* * *

From the reflection of the glass, he knew he lost a lot of weight. He could see bones jutting out of his rib cage. Chapped lips.

His matted hair.

He was shaking like a leaf.

‘Is this how I’ll die?’

“You will never die, not while I’m alive, Harry.”

Voldemort wrinkled his nose at the smell and cast a well-deserved, “Scourgify,” on Harry who felt uncomfortable at the feeling of magic on his sensitive skin.

“Are you not going to great your master, Harry?”

Harry brokenly echoed, “Master.”

Red eyes stared at him intently and Harry just let his eyes fall shut.

“You’re learning. I wish you listened to me from the start. Then it wouldn’t have had to hurt so much.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that.

Harry winced when Voldemort carried him gently on a couch. ‘Was there a couch there before?’

“Perhaps you won’t be difficult this time. It’s time to feed you after all. We are back to eating soup.”

Voldemort touched him as if he was afraid he’ll break. Like a precious jewel. As if he didn’t hurt him days before. The memory of almost drowning haunted Harry. He dreamt of it often. Just like he dreamt of the time Voldemort broke his ankle. It still hasn’t completely healed.

Harry stared at the bowl and wondered what else was inside it, not that he cared at this point.

Voldemort plunged a silver spoon inside the bowl and held it inches from his lips. Harry opened his mouth and let it in. The man was patient.

It tasted really good. Even better than the ones before.

“Master… why do you bother… being kind, when you’re going to hurt me again?”

Voldemort put the spoon back on the bowl and let them both float in midair. “There is no simple answer to that…” Voldemort took his chin and stared at his eyes, and Harry suddenly saw things in his head.

He saw Lord Voldemort sitting on a throne with a legion of followers. He saw the fear in his victim’s eyes as he walked the halls of the ministry. He heard him speak in his head.

“It was at the height of my power. I was one step away from realizing one of goals, to conquer Britain. My name was feared and no one even dared to speak it. Those foolish enough were dealt with. I was winning. Dumbledore knew it.”

And then, Harry saw in his mind’s eye that Severus Snape arrived before Voldemort, bearing ill news. And Harry heard him, “But spare Lily Potter. Spare her life and I will forever be grateful, my Lord.”

It vanished, to the scene of a rather familiar house. And Voldemort stared at it, looking through the window as he saw a babe and Harry knew at once that the baby was his, and the person lifting him up and down in the air was his father.

“When you were still growing from the womb of your mother’s belly, I received a prophecy from a trusted follower. I was foolish and acted upon it for it foretold the birth of child who can defeat me. You see, I was not about to let fate have its way. I have sacrificed too much to be threatened by somebody else’s existence. I wanted to kill you for posing a threat to me and my rule.”

And Harry saw Voldemort kill his father. There was a scream, and young Harry only watched with curious eyes as the Dark Lord said, “Stand aside you foolish girl.”

“Dear sweet Lily Potter sacrificed herself and ultimately, she called upon an ancient magic, one so powerful that it protected you from the killing curse and gave you that scar. It is fortunate that I have attained immortality but I lost my physical form. I turned into a wraith. For many years I survived as a parasite. I longed for the day to kill you, eliminating the blemish… that has tormented me for years…”

Harry was pulled out of the Dark Lord’s memories and asked in a very small voice, “Do you still want to kill me?”

“No. Harry… No… for many months now, I only wished to keep you by my side. I told you before, you hold my soul. For as long as you live, I will live… and it is because of this that I cannot exact my revenge upon you. For eleven years, I wished to hurt you. I delight in seeing you suffer even when I know you are innocent. Another part of me wishes to keep you safe and cannot tolerate hurting one that holds my soul. It is the greatest dilemma, Harry… and what I feel for you is a thin line between desire and hate.”

Harry felt as if there was no hope then and hissed, “ _How do you know I have your soul? Please… just take it out and kill me. I know you’ll keep hurting me and I’ll always do something… you don’t like… and I can’t… I don’t want that… I’m tired. Please… master?”_

Voldemort inhaled sharply at this, “Harry. I told you again and again, I don’t want you dead. Do not make me angry...”

“I’m not. I just… don’t want to hurt anymore. I’m scared… of you—”

“Harry. I admit that I have been unfair to you. I am used to taking things by force… to hurting people, to torturing my victims until they sing the tune I wish to hear but I forget that you are but a child...” Voldemort kissed his forehead, and whispered, “ _and that your soul calls out to mine… I want you._ I have no knowledge of when this started, or if you’ve somehow managed to cast a curse on me, but if you surrender to me. If you surrender everything to me, I promise not to hurt you. I promise to take care of you, Harry. I just need you to accept it, that there is _no escape_ , that I am all that you will ever have… Accept me as your master, Harry.”

Harry was tired of this. Tired of these mad words. Tired of acknowledging Voldemort as his master.

But what choice did he have? Harry looked down.

Voldemort once again began feeding him, but soon, his stomach protested and he said, “It hurts.”

Voldemort took the spoon away, “Very well. When you feel ready to eat again, call Dobby and he will bring you whatever you wish to eat.”

“Thank you, master,” Harry lowered his lashes. Voldemort tilted his chin and stared at his eyes. Harry winced at the perusal of his thoughts.

It seemed that whatever he’d been thinking of pleased Voldemort who smiled at him and said, “You deserve a reward for being such a good boy, Harry. You are doing so well. But first, you must drink these potions.”

Harry saw the vials floating beside them.

Harry drank them one by one but hesitated at the last one. It was the same one that made his heart constrict. Voldemort was looking at him intently.

So Harry drank it.

And again, when he took it, he felt the pain. Voldemort took pity and brushed his tears away.

It hurt to breathe.

At this point, Harry just wanted to be held. He didn’t want to be alone anymore.

“ _Master…”_

He didn’t know what he was asking for.

“Yes, my pet. In due time, it will stop hurting. For now, you need all the rest you can get. Sleep.”

* * *

It was a routine. Of pain when he did something that displeased his master. A generous reward when he did well.

He learned that Voldemort could easily read his mind whenever he wished. And Harry was forced to learn how to quiet his thoughts. To be grateful and happy for what he had and not wish for anything else.

He learned that it was much better this way, when he associated his master with comfort rather than the suffering he can bring. Because he was both, and Harry chose to turn a blind eye to the other.

Harry tried so hard to hold on to his courage. But there was no point in fighting when the Dark Lord wouldn't let him die and just happily show him the many ways he could torture him if he disobeyed. He felt guilt that he was breaking so easily. That he knew one day he was going to betray his friends and family.

For selfishness.

But as he lay on the glass floor, trapped with no way out, Voldemort's voice was that of the devil's. Sweet temptation.

_‘Surrender and the pain will stop.’_

* * *

Voldemort gave him a blanket and he cherished it. He gave him many gifts. Many little trinkets.

He’d appear at random, sometimes staying for hours, sometimes just checking on him to see if he was well.

And today, the Dark Lord appeared, with half of his face covered with blood.

A crazed glint on his eyes.

“Harry.”

Harry looked at him, and wrapped himself around the blanket, unable to look away as the man circled the cage, as if he was a predator watching prey.

“Harry Potter.” It was a hiss in the air. And the Dark Lord vanished but his voice remained, echoing all around him, inside his head.

**‘Let me in. Surrender to me.’**

Harry burrowed his head in between his knees.

Felt the wind around his cage blow, the cold pricking his skin, giving rise to goosebumps on his flesh.

**“Harry. What have you done to me?”**

Harry put his hands on his ears, pretending he was somewhere far away, hoping that this was just another dream he’d wake up from.

And then, there was a whisper to his right, “Give yourself _to me_.”

Harry hastily looked over his shoulder and saw nothing. Nothing but the empty glass walls.

Harry pressed his knees closer to his chest and said to the wind, “What do you mean by that, master? What should I do… I’m scared… you’re scaring me.”

The shadows melded before him and soon, Voldemort stepped out, smiling. Hungry. Harry looked upon red eyes and felt something slither within his mind and he saw his memories, so many of them.

“ **I want everything. Everything you can give me.** ”

A whimper left his lips as memories of his childhood replayed, of the cupboard, and the many nights of crying himself to sleep wishing with all his heart for a family.

And he named the little spiders that crawled inside it. The broken toys.

Of how he hungered for recognition and despite doing better than his cousin, he never got anything.

The first ever cake he got on his birthday. It was Hagrid.

The first time he had someone send him a letter and he couldn’t read it. Until a hundred owls gathered and flooded the house with a letter of invitation to Hogwarts in Privet Drive.

“I could give you the world. Let me in. Let me have you. I’ll take care of you… I will love you.”

Love.

“Please, not Harry.” Lily Potter getting hit by a green light of the killing curse

Staring at the picture perfect family of Vernon and Petunia as they showered their son with gifts when he had nothing but an old pair of socks and hand-me-downs.

Parents, hugging their children before they stepped on the train to Hogwarts.

Endless nights of staring at a mirror, that showed him what could have been. What should have been. What love was.

Saving Hermione from the troll and the relief that came after. That he did not have to lose a friend.

**“I can give you this. And more.”**

The wonder of touching the broom for the first time. Soaring through the air in childish delight, wondering how far he could go, how fast he could push it to take him to where he wanted to be. Feeling the wind hit his cheeks and ruffle his hair.

And diving down. Adrenalin.

The applause as his house all but congratulated him for winning the match against Slytherin even when he won it by swallowing the snitch.

“ **Let me in. Harry. I want you… I want to own every inch of you.”**

And each of those memories fading, to the back of his mind.

Ron and Hermione’s faces, fading, like a painter had gone over and smudged it, leaving a blur.

And it kept breaking, and mixing together. It left him hungering for something to replace it.

Until all he could feel was the warmth and comfort and the call that reverberated into his every being. Lord Voldemort gazing at him with adoration.

“My precious horcrux. You are mine. Say it.”

This was home.

The darkness that wrapped around him, sheltering him from the harshness of the world. Sifting through his very being. A dark cloud filled with nothing but warmth and what could just be love.

Where once there was reason, there was nothing left but a primal need to be one.

To press closer. A reunion of two souls that were once one, but now were separated by the thin film of two bodies. He felt the echoing need, the warmth of holding something so pure, so innocent.

To be one.

Softly.

Slowly.

Surely.

Warm lips, pressing unto his. A tongue, seeking entrance.

And for a moment, Harry Potter was no more.

And all thought went away. Carried away like dust into the air.

Completeness.

Utter completeness.

“ **Mine.** ”

‘Yours.’

* * *

Lord Voldemort kissed the child, watching as the boy’s face became marred by the blood of his enemies.

He hungered for more. It was easy. It would be too easy to take what he wanted right then and there.

“Say it, Harry. Say it again.”

Green eyes blown wide, unseeing. “I’m yours, master—”

Voldemort’s breath hitched, and he pulled away to stare at the boy who looked confused. Who, in the melding of their minds, continued to seek him out. Hands pulling him closer.

The poor child was reaching out with his arms and pressing against himself, wishing to be as close to him as possible.

This was a sickness that he could not find a cure for, lest he kill the child now.

The obsession, a weakness that he must rid himself.

Today, he was prepared to do the very deed. For Harry Potter posed no threat, and the souls that tethered him to the very earth have not been disturbed, save for the locket that has gone missing for years.

He did not need the boy.

He should not want the boy.

But seeing the helpless child look at him with equal need, the all consuming want that was lurking just beneath the surface—

Harry Potter wanted him just as much, he did not know it.

It was horrifying.

The Dark Lord smiled as he wrapped his hands around the boy’s neck.

When Harry’s eyes were filled with nothing but trust.

Lord Voldemort squeezed.

And the trust turned to confusion.

Then fear.

He could hear the boy’s thoughts, his panic.

‘Master. I need you. Please stop. Please. It hurts. I can’t breathe. I CAN’T BREATHE. HELP. HELP ME. PLEASE.’

Tears.

Voldemort let go and the boy started inching away from him. Coughing. Choking. So very afraid.

“You are a weakness, Harry… you are that which I desire most. I should kill you...”

Lord Voldemort vanished once more, only to appear, looming against his prisoner who cowered and pressed himself against one corner of the cage, his feet struggling to push himself away but getting nowhere, “Please don’t hurt me… Please... please master. I’m sorry… sorry.”

The red marks on the boy’s neck would soon be replaced by black bruises.

Harry was crying, so beautiful in his pain. Sobbing, and wiping his eyes again and again but unable to stop.

His voice was breaking, “Please, master. Please no more…”

“You have done nothing wrong, child.”

Voldemort inhaled the boy’s pleasant scent, took in his fear and placed his hand on the boy’s chin, tilting his head upwards so he could once again stare at green eyes.

Touching him like this was bliss, and he could feel his magic react to it, a part of him wanting to pull the boy to him once more. Or rip his clothes apart and bury himself inside...

It was difficult. The hardest thing he had to ever do. To resist the temptation that was staring at him. Like a ripe apple that could only grow sweeter if he just waited for a few precious moments… And he was starving, dying for a taste. That sweet nectar. His soul.

He began smearing blood all over the boy’s face, and he could not stop himself from kissing the trembling thing once again.

Lord Voldemort pulled away and made up his mind.

That this will be the last attempt he’d have on the boy’s life. He saw through Harry’s thoughts, his memories and the boy did not deserve his cruelty.

* * *

He paced in his study and looked upon the war plans. The Order of the Phoenix had been pushed out of Hogwarts. The castle was his, and yet he was not able to catch their blasted leader before they took off.

“I know the truth, Tom. I know what he is and that he is alive. I promise you that we will do whatever it takes to find him and bring him home...” Dumbledore said.

Voldemort’s magic exploded, and all the windows in the room burst into tiny shards. His desk torn apart. The books flying with pages fluttering about in like an angry hurricane had gone through.

This anger was familiar.

The fear of losing another was not.

He soon found himself under the cold shower and it sprayed on his back. He willed it to become freezing, to replicate the moment he almost succeeded drowning the boy.

Blood was washing away.

His red eyes, narrowed into slits. He was so close to victory, but the ever present fear that his prized possession could be stolen from him was haunting him.

But where else could he place the child? He could not think of a place that was safer than the chamber which has not been found by anyone other than Parselmouths.

Perhaps he should bring his followers down there, once the war was over. Preparations for his castle was being put together, and once that was done, he would imprison the boy in a tower, or box, or a garden.

Somehere, away from all the violence.

And yet the thought of the boy’s forlorn face, his tears, disturbed him. The memories haunted him.

Harry has not even smiled at him willingly, not once. Save for when he was under the influence of their bond.

He had not seen it.

He did not possess it.

And Lord Voldemort wanted it.

Desire was a hateful thing, the Dark Lord thought. And for the first time, he wished he could take the easy way out, just like his mother did.

For nothing hurt more than wanting someone when they did not want you back.

* * *

Months of the same harrowing treatment could break even the toughest of spirits. Harry was a mere twelve-year-old child.

To Harry, guilt was a scab that was slowly turning to a fading scar.

Harry didn’t know why, but somehow, even though he still thought of his master as a monster, most of the time, he wasn’t.

The kisses he shared with him were not chaste and innocent. It felt wrong.

And yet, Harry had grown used to it. The promise of something more was always imminent. He should be horrified.

He should be disgusted.

But some part of him wanted it, craved it. He did not know why. Some twisted part of him wanted his master to _look_ at him.

And look only at him.

He wasn’t sure what to do with these thoughts. And the more he thought about it, the less it made sense.

And all he knew was that it hurt. Because he couldn’t get rid of those thoughts. The more time he spent in his master’s presence, the more the thoughts plagued him.

And Harry tried his damndest not to let it grow.

Lest he be damned even more.

* * *

He was curled up in bed, taking too small of a space. He had a thick fluffy white comforter, wrapped around him. His pillow cradled his head. Voldemort finally healed his ankle. He could walk again.

And Harry only had to let Voldemort hold him. To let his fingers wander and touch, and let those lips taste his skin.

It felt hot, when the lips peppered kisses down the length of his neck. When his back was bare and fingers would trace it and a tongue would swipe down. And lips would suck.

Voldemort would look at him as if he wanted to eat him. And yet he would not go any further.

Harry wanted him to.

Wanted to dare him to.

Because he knew there was more to this.

He wanted more but he Harry wasn’t sure what _was_ more.

And recently, he began touching himself. Because it felt good.

And he would do it beside his master.

Because it felt good.

And it was wrong. So wrong.

“ _So pretty, my pet. So delightful. You tempt me. If you ask me. If you wish for it, I will have you. I will take you, and you will scream my name._ ”

Harry would look at him, look at his master commit the very same act. His eyes riveted at the expression on the Dark Lord’s face as he touched himself while he was beside him.

.

.

.

When he woke up from another nightmare of drowning in the cage. Of seeing dead friends. Of being forgotten. And he was crying.

Voldemort was beside him, just an ever present source of warmth.

And then, there was a kiss. To his lips.

And at that moment, Harry’s leg was around his master’s leg. And his crotch was pressed against his master’s hip. They were intertwined on a bed, and Harry felt light-headed with how the friction felt good.

Harry could not stop himself and asked Voldemort, “Please... touch me?”

No one would know. If he gave in to the voices in his head. “Will you please?”

“Are you sure you want me to?” Came the dark sensual hiss, but even as the question was asked, the touch was lingering, around Harry’s hips. Squeezing. Making his breath hitch.

He knew it would feel good.

Harry nodded.

And he gasped as a hand touched his dick, and it was slow at first. And his inexperienced body thrust upwards. A moan on his lips.

“Nghh…”

* * *

That was the only time. And it felt so good that Harry kept thinking about it. Kept wishing for it but guilt was eating him.

It was wrong because his master murdered his parents. Hurt him. Trapped him in a cage.

And the only time turned into another.

“No more… no more, I can’t master. It’s too much.”

“You can’t come until I say so, my pet. Or we’ll have to start again. You asked for this.”

Harry’s cheeks were burning red.

He could hardly feel it.

* * *

Moments passed, and the only time he ever felt alive was when his master came over to spoil him with even more gifts.

Voldemort was back and just fed him a scrumptious meal, scones, and even gave him his favorite pumpkin juice. Warm hands took his and his master kissed it reverently.

Before long, Harry was back to bed with the Dark Lord beside him.

Voldemort carded his fingers through his hair, untangling his untamable strands with a mere sweep of his magic. It lulled him slowly to sleep.

“I wish you would stay like this forever, Harry. Then, there will be no need to suffer. I need you to trust me, that I am doing all this for you…”

“I need you,” Harry replied. Eyes wide and breath light. Like a feather, Harry felt as if he was floating, with nowhere to go except down.

“Yess, Harry. That’s because we share one soul,” and Voldemort reached out, to touch his face, and Harry felt the echoing warmth, thoughts turning into mush...

“Do you feel that?”

Harry nodded.

It was calming. It was nothing like the pain he once felt when his master was so angry at him. When he was denying Voldemort…

What changed? Was it because he started calling Voldemort his master? Was it the potions he’d been drinking?

“Harry, you are precious to me. Far more than any jewel. I should have killed you from the start… and yet I could not. I tried, many times but I failed.”

Voldemort frowned, and stopped carding his fingers, letting it stay on Harry’s cheek.

“It is a tragedy. The Order thinks you are their savior when you are nothing but a child that is starved of affection. They do not know that your existence is tied to mine. _I tried to sever it for I cannot let a mere mortal hold my soul and yet it has intertwined so completely with yours._ ” The Dark Lord switched to parseltongue, his voice too soft to hear but Harry heard it clearly.

He heard it inside his head as much as he heard the soft whisper in the wind.

Harry frowned, his own words instinctively lilting back into the soft language of the snakes, “ _You can’t take it away?”_

“ _I’m afraid not. Not while you live… I have grown fond of you and of your existence. We are inexplicably tied to one another, by fate… by blood, our souls, our minds, our bodies… The resulting desire is inevitable.”_

Harry couldn’t understand it. “ _I’m just Harry… I’m nothing, master… I don’t deserve your kindness… nor your affection. I have done nothing for you—”_

 _“You do not know your worth,”_ Voldemort said with his face pressed Harry’s hair. “ _At first, I wanted to break you, to show you how I see the world in my eyes, but as I saw through your memories, I grew fond of you. Your kindness. Your innocence… I found it alluring. I craved to have it for myself. Perhaps it is because I cannot fathom how someone with such a blackened piece of my soul could remain innocent. Because it is there within you. I am that which causes you to wish others harm, which makes you feel vindictive pleasure when you see others hurt. The insatiable anger that sits in your gut and gives you glee when you act upon it. I am the monster that sits at the back of your mind, a parasite to your pure white soul that seeks to corrupt you. And yet you remain so pure...”_

Harry remembered it. The strange urges that haunted him. He thought it was normal because his relatives hurt him that he dreamt of hurting him back. When his cousin fell inside the tank of the snake and couldn’t get out, Harry was left with the sudden urge to laugh to— “ _I don’t want to… I don’t want to hurt people. I don’t master… if it’s you… if it’s because of the soul. Can you please take it out? Isn’t it better that way?”_

Harry couldn’t help but want to push away but Voldemort merely held him still with his magic and Harry once again turned boneless.

 _“No, Harry. I’ve told you. It will stay… and you are strong enough not to be affected by it. You are your own person… and you have managed to tame it within you. I hurt you a lot more than I should have and yet, even now, you forgive me. You even seek my comfort. My approval. My touch. My precious soul, I adore you for this,”_ Voldemort confessed and he kissed Harry’s forehead.

 _“Do you not see how much I care for you? T_ _his_ connection that you feel, it affects me too you see. I feel complete, whenever I am with you.”

Harry blinked his green eyes, and Voldemort looked at him with such need. His master looked as if he was trying his hardest not to give in to doing something _so—Harry thought he saw flashes of his flesh. Of his master above him, pressing down. Of lips intertwined and being buried in white heat_ —sinful.

“Harry, I want you. I want _everything_ that you can give. You were mine from the very moment I marked you with that cursed scar… you will _give_ everything to me… promise me.”

It echoed in his head.

**Promise me.**

**_Give me everything_ **

Harry.

“I promise… but please… be gentle? Master… I—”

“Shh… none of those thoughts, my pet. Breathe.”

Harry shakily did so. He buried his face in his master’s chest and inhaled the familiar scent.

Voldemort stroked his back and sighed quietly. “The war limits my time with you, and I am almost tempted to show you what has become of the world now that I am close to conquering Britain. To take you out of this cage that keeps you safe from those who wish to take you from me.”

Harry dreaded this.

“They still mourn your death. What will they say when they see you now, Harry? Loyal to me… the only thing missing is my mark.”

Voldemort kissed his forehead, and traced his back, “But where to put it? It is almost a waste to mar your skin.”

Harry shivered and wished his master wouldn’t do it.

Voldemort simply kept brushing his hair. Harry knew that his protests mean nothing, so he stayed quiet.

“A pity. I won’t mark you then… but perhaps in time you’ll change your mind. Is there anything you wish for, Harry? Tell me and I will grant it, my pet.”

He had enough. The glass cage was enough. Harry told himself it was enough. He should not ask for more. But he was dying of company.

“Can… you stay longer, master? I don’t… want to be alone… I have nightmares… and I…”

Voldemort pulled him closer. “Of course, Harry. Such a simple wish, I’ll be happy to grant it.”

* * *

The Dark Lord even left him fanciful flowers by his bedside. There was a white card that said, “I hope you slept well.”

Harry wondered why he took the card and read it over and over.

His parents had been absent for a while. Lord Voldemort said he wished to tinker with their behaviours, so they had more sentience than mere Inferis of his. Harry was just happy that he didn’t have to see them.

The white card, he kept by his pillow.

And then, Harry began coughing blood.

He sat up and wiped his face with a towel and clutched his chest.

‘I’m okay.’

Harry sank down to the bed and hid his face from the light, trying his hardest not to give in to the fear and loneliness.

* * *

All was going well until Harry woke up and he saw a familiar man break into the room. He wore the same fanciful robes, the same kindly old smile.

Harry thought he was still dreaming.

“Professor Dumbledore.” Harry slid off the bed and stared at him warily. He eyed the slain basilisk that was still writhing on the floor even when her head was missing.

”Elicia!” Harry gasped.

Dobby was dead too. Harry was horrified.

“Harry, my boy, we found you at last. It has taken far too long to see that you have been hiding from plain sight and I wish I should have known better. I hope that someday, you’ll forgive me. I’ve let you down.”

Seeing him, there. Harry tilted his head… wondering if his mind was playing tricks with him. He kept a safe distance, “You killed them.”

“A necessary sacrifice.”

There were others trickling the hallway. Too many of them. Some gazed at him with pity, others, amazed, “Didn’t think the Chamber of Secrets actually exists.”

“Good thing we joined the Order eh?”

Albus gave a small smile and a gruff voice interrupted, “Settle down. This is. Not. A game. Stay alert at all times. Constant vigilance. We do not know what else is lurking in the shadows.”

“Moody, you’re so uptight.”

Dumbledore touched the glass with the tip of his wand and watched how it zapped him.

At this moment, Harry felt his scar hurt.

**‘Harry… Close your eyes. Do not open them. They’re here to take you away from me. You are safe within the cage… I will be with you ssooon...’**

“Harry, what’s wrong?”

Harry was unsure if he wanted to tell imaginary Dumbledore what’s wrong when his head was hurting. He collapsed on the floor.

“Harry?!”

His consciousness was fading.

**‘Don’t let them take you.’**

Dumbledore’s voice was so quiet that Harry had to concentrate so hard to hear it, “He’s done you terrible wrong, Harry, remember that you are not alone. That no matter what he’s led you to believe, what lies he’s fed you, there are still others out there who still believe in you. You can fight him.”

Harry gasped and finally managed to open his eyes. He was crying, “I don’t need saving. I’m happy where I am. Master cares for me… more than my own family… I can’t—”

Dumbledore frowned at this.

“That man is not your master. You are not his pet, Harry. _”_

“Then what am I?”

 _“_ You’re Harry. A child. Soon you’ll join Hogwarts for your third year of schooling. You do not belong to him.”

“No you can’t take me. Master won’t be happy… He’ll kill you all. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen what he’ll do to you in my head and I don’t… want you to die. Please. Just leave me… Leave me alone…”

Dumbledore sighed, and continued “Tell the truth, Harry. I know you long to see your friends. Ron and Hermione miss you terribly. I will do everything in my power to help you. Don’t be afraid.”

_Ron_

_Hermione._

_Friends?_

* * *

And Harry started remembering it, the life outside of his cage. Thoughts of Hermione and how she’d wake him up to study with more books than he can possibly read. Ron, and how he sacrificed himself as a chess piece. That ugly Christmas sweater that he got from his mother.

Hermione’s look of gratitude as he saved her life from the troll. The thought of the castle, and _home._ A place, and not a person, not an imagined feeling out of desperation.

The thought of coming back to Hogwarts again, seeing the rest of the members of his house. Learning magic. Being able to fly, with his broom, so freely in the sky. Seeing the different creatures and Hagrid with his dangerous pets. Smelling the fresh air of the Black Forest, and stepping out into a world he thought only existed in his dreams.

Hoping that he’d never have to wake up, afraid.

That he would not be punished if he said something wrong, where kindness would not turn into senseless violence.

Harry’s voice was quiet, and too weak even to his own ears, “Help me.”

The Order of the Phoenix fell into sudden silence. They all heard it. Loud and clear.

Harry could only mouth the words as once again, he was assaulted by a headache.

Harry stared at Dumbledore, who nodded at his comrades. They began writing runes in the air and began prying apart the glass walls.

**‘No. You will resist them. They are lying to you, Harry. They only wish to use you against me. Don’t betray me.’**

Harry slumped on the floor, hearing the Dark Lord’s voice.

**‘You will not escape. Never.’**

A second man appeared behind Dumbledore and said, “Just stay calm, Harry. This might take a little while but the Death Eaters should be preoccupied by now so we’ll have enough time to get you out.”

Albus Dumbledore joined the others and focused his wand on the pentagram that formed around Harry.

And then, Harry felt as if he was pushed back, far away from the confines of his own body but could still see through his eyes.

Dumbledore saw how Harry’s eyes bled to red.

“You’ve lost, old man. The child is mine. You cannot take him away from me.”

“He was never yours, Tom. You cannot force someone to love you. This, you must know by now.”

Harry hissed inside the cage, “Your words hold no meaning _._ I will be there shortly and by the time I have the boy back in my arms, you shall be dead.”

Harry’s scar hurt and it was debilitating. He could move again, but everything hurt, like little needles were poking him at the tiniest motion.

But He knew how sharp the shards of the cage were.

He pulled his blanket around him and hid as the splinters on the walls began vibrating.

And then, the splinters grew and grew until it shattered. The shards flew everywhere and some got through his blanket. When he thought the worst was over, when Harry thought he was finally free—

Pain.

Harry put a hand on his neck and choked. Inhaling lungfuls of air that suddenly felt so toxic he was convulsing. He couldn’t breathe. He was gasping and trying so hard but his heart felt like something had squeezed it from within. It was torture.

"Harry! What has he done to you?”

Dumbledore hurriedly took out a coin and placed it on Harry and said, “Ludwig.”

Nothing happened and Harry remained where he was.

The air rumbled.

**”Hasha sieethhhh.”**

The hiss of parseltongue echoed in the Chamber. In their heads.

That was all the warning they had until several cloaked figures appeared with a crack. The Dark Lord was seething, “Dumbledore! You will die today. It was a mistake for you to come here, in my domain.”

Voldemort raised a hand and hissed several words in parseltongue, and soon the walls around them suddenly began moving. The statues of snakes on the wall began animating itself and it swept through the crowd, rocks falling overhead, the sound of stone, trying to pound into the Order.

Dumbledore jabbed his wand downwards and tore through obsidian, reforming a golem made of rock. He made all three at once and hoped it would hold against more than a dozen enchanted snakes but it was enough of a distraction for him to begin summoning all the water within the chamber, and he hurled it at the Death Eaters like a tsunami.

“This is nothing to me,” The waves froze in mid-air, and Voldemort raised his wand, willing the ice to break apart and turn into shards lancing towards Dumbledore who quickly put up a shield.

“Give the boy back to us, Tom. Back to where he belongs.”

“He’s Mine! And you will not take him from me.” Voldemort suddenly launched himself in the air, flying.

The Death Eaters were pouring in, and yet Albus and his allies were holding their ground. The golems were winning against the animated snakes, and their massive bodies crashed onto walls as it exchanged blows.

The walls groaned and pieces of rock and debris fell from overhead.

Harry was still choking on the floor.

Albus Dumbledore knew that they did not have long. The more the fight went on, the more they ran the risk of losing the boy. With this in mind, Dumbledore began to cast a spell, a ring of fire around his form, spreading to form a whip.

Harry felt his hand move without his permission and he almost lost his consciousness when magic was pulled out from him and it hit Dumbledore from behind. Voldemort cast a nasty orange curse that singed Dumbledore’s robes, eating through it and slowly through his skin.

“You let your guard down.”

Dumbledore grit his teeth and used his wand to cast fire that will stop the curse from spreading, burning his entire left arm in the process.

He rolled on the ground when the Dark Lord cast overhead and summoned a thick miasma of black energy, a force that could only mean the blackest of magics. Necromancy. If he let that touch him or any of their men, they will suffer.

“Protego Horribilis.” Albus Dumbledore had to steady his right hand, and almost knelt to the floor as he forced the spell to act faster, to submit and reform to his will without even making the right wand movements. He didn’t know a powerful enough spell that could go against it.

A white film spread overhead like lightning but it was incomplete, for Dumbledore botched the natural way of casting it. People started screaming. Those who got in close contact with the curse slowly started aging.

Before the shield completely shattered, Dumbledore silently cast a light spell to counter the curse. He took one glance behind him and his eyes widened in horror when he saw Harry’s eyes were bleeding. He was frothing at the mouth and clawing at his throat.

The two spells collided in midair and Voldemort grunted when he was pushed back. At this moment, a large hand made of stone hit the Dark Lord and he was thrown against the wall.

Voldemort gritted his teeth in pain and spit out blood. He then laughed as he forced his magic to render him invisible.

Dumbledore transfigured the stones to form rotating shards, casting a silent shielding curse for good measure.

“Harry,” Dumbledore worriedly said as he knelt and watched the boy coughed out blood. The boy was unseeing.

A force pushed him away, “Don’t touch him.” The Dark Lord soon appeared next to the boy, and cast a silent fiendfyre. It took in the shape of a mighty serpent and Dumbledore groaned as he swiftly tried to cut through it, but fiendfyre was notoriously difficult to counter.

Harry’s head lolled. The boy was barely breathing. Voldemort frowned and with Harry in his arms, he shadow apparated behind his Death Eaters.

“We have got to go, Albus. There is no time. The wards are closing and we’ll soon be trapped here.” The same man with a gruff voice called out before taking out a coin and saying, “Ludwig.”

“Ludwig.”

* * *

The Chamber of Secrets was in ruins.

Voldemort looked down at his pet with worry. He looked at the few who got left behind. He then coldly announced to the Death Eaters, “Torture them for information. If they don’t speak, kill them.”

* * *

Harry felt an uncomfortable feeling of being squeezed through a tunnel and it caused him to lose whatever energy he had left.

“Someone, get me the healers. Now.”

A rush of blonde hair appeared at Harry’s peripheral.

It was blurry. Tinted red.

So many voices.

And white.

* * *

Harry found a cake waiting beside him, and there were words.

**Happy Birthday**

He ate it.

Harry could not remember what happened during the past few days. He’d been brought out of the Chamber of Secrets to a sterile white room where wizards and witches prodded him with wands and forced him to drink potions.

He recalled a fight, but not much else after that. Was it a dream? The faces were blurry. It gave him a headache when he thought of it.

He was thirteen now it seemed, and instead of a glass cage, he was inside a lavish room.

* * *

Voldemort appeared at night, looking pale and tired. Frustrated. “How are you feeling?”

Harry tilted his head. He was engrossed reading a book on a table and fell asleep with his head on the pages.

“I’m okay, master… I’m still… sleepy?”

“Come with me. I wish to show you something.”

Harry stretched and took the Dark Lord’s offered hand. He trailed after his master as they went past corridor after corridor.

And then, they went inside the room that looked like it was a study.

“I found her looking for you just outside the wards of the manor.”

“Hedwig!” Harry exclaimed and the snow white owl hooted. She was sitting on one of the books that littered the enormous desk, and she flew towards Harry, greeting him with an excited fluttering of wings.

The owl perched on his arm and Harry butted his head against hers. “I missed you, girl. Have you been looking for me all this time? Master, will you let me keep her? Please?”

“Of course. You can tend to her later. First, we must have dinner.”

* * *

Harry stayed close to the Dark Lord. His presence was comforting only because he’d been the only person he interacted with for a _long time._

Something. Changed.

Harry could not put a finger to it, but his master was acting as if… he cared.

And Harry wasn’t sure why, but seeing him like this, made him feel like something was _wrong._

He wasn’t used to this.

To being out of the tiny space of his room, to being able to walk freely.

Harry didn’t understand it.

“Harry, take my hand.”

And Harry stared at the Dark Lord’s hand as if it was alien.

”I won’t hurt you.”

Harry slowly extended his hand and the Dark Lord took it gently on his own. They walked side by side.

* * *

Harry Potter saw Draco Malfoy hiding in the shadows and the boy was glaring at him just before they entered the dining room.

They were seated at a long dining table with Lord Voldemort at the head.

Lucius Malfoy, the boy’s father looked like an exact replica of his son except with longer hair. He gave him a very considering look. He sat at the Dark Lord’s right.

Harry sat at the Dark Lord’s left.

Narcissa Malfoy introduced herself earlier, and she graciously welcomed Harry to her home but was now quiet when Voldemort began talking.

“It has come to my attention that we have a traitor in our midst. I have kept Harry Potter’s location a secret. A few weeks ago, to celebrate my victory, I have invited the inner circle to see what has become of The Boy Who Lived.”

Harry flinched at this. He felt betrayed that he had no recollection of that even happening. Maybe they visited his enclosure while he was asleep. Did they all look upon him and think how much of a pet he was, kept in a glass cage, dependent on their master for his care?

“And then, immediately after this visit, the Order of the Phoenix appeared, and they would have succeeded in taking the boy had I not tied him down to the wards of the castle. I want an explanation for this. I leave you the option to reveal yourself, before I pull it out of each of your individual minds. Who was it that spilled the secret?”

Harry watched as Severus Snape’s lips trembled. The man was looking at him very intently but Harry just looked away.

“As you may all know, Harry Potter is precious to me. He is not to be harmed in any way or manner and yet you, my most trusted, failed me. It was a test of your convictions and I find myself terribly disappointed with what has happened. Shall I reevaluate where your loyalties lie?”

“We are loyal to you and the cause my Lord.”

“We serve you only.”

A chorus of reassurances happened.

And then.

“I did it.”

A blond Death Eater confessed. Her eyes were red. In tears. She put her hands down as she stood up. All eyes were on her and Harry knew instinctively that she was going to suffer despite confessing. His scar hurt, and Voldemort was horribly angry. It was bubbling at the surface, waiting to erupt.

“Alecto Carrow… explain to me how and why you did it.” His master’s voice echoed in the air, and his magic was roiling about him, like an angry snake, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

“I was drunk, My Lord. I might have said a word or two while drinking at Hog’s Head. I was merely talking to Minerva about the woes of teaching and s-she might have laced my drink with a truth serum or read my mind. I wouldn’t have spoken otherwise. I would never... but does it matter my Lord? The child is a half-blood. We all know that you want to keep him as a trophy but you treat t-this animal— This **abomination** as if _he is worthy_ of your time, of your affection when you have not even given us the same!? He does not belong here with us. I find his existence deplorable. I wished to kill him from the moment I saw him and I will if you let me—”

“Avada Kedavra.”

The woman slumped over the table. Dead.

Harry found himself flinching at this but a wave of magic sifted over to him, wrapping him in a warm cocoon and began trying to calm him down.

To his followers, Voldemort said, “Perhaps I have not made myself clear. To me it does not matter how loyal you are when you cannot follow the simplest of instructions. I will personally see to it that anyone who harbours any ill intent towards the boy shall suffer the same fate. If you harm him, whether it is directly or indirectly, you will pay with your lives. I will not be so merciful the second time around and those who dare cross the line will be begging for death. Do you understand?”

A chorus of Yes my Lords followed.

“Trouble will always the find the boy. I have known him for a year and he is a difficult child to manage. Might I suggest giving him a set of guardians to watch his every move?” Snape offered.

“An excellent suggestion, Severus. Once the castle is complete, I will be moving Harry to a more secure location. Now, I will need three of you to watch over him while he resides in this manor,” Voldemort gave the Death Eaters a considering look and it landed on Narcissa who inclined her head.

“I almost never leave the house, My Lord. I volunteer to take care of the child while you are away.”

“Good. Make sure you treat him well,” and all eyes were back to Harry who simply dropped his fork and wanted to be away from the attention of all the dangerous men and women in the room.

“Severus, since you suggested it, might I employ your services in this regard?” Voldemort asked boredly.

“Certainly, my Lord.”

Bellatrix raised her hand, itching to speak. “I wish to take care of him too, master. If you leave him to me, I will do everything in my power to protect your pet.”

A sudden silence came at her declaration.

“No, Bella. While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I believe your time is better served at the forefront of the war. You are my precious lieutenant. You may visit him if you wish, but I need someone who can stay behind, preferably someone who’s dealt with children before.”

Bellatrix’s face fell but a blush coated her cheeks when the Dark Lord praised her, “Anything you wish, My Lord.”

“I... I volunteer, my Lord...”

A sniveling man who did not have a seat came closer.

“Ah… Wormtail. I expected you to do so but with you, I will need the boy’s consent...Harry, look at me child.”

Harry looked up, and Voldemort gently took his hands and laced their fingers, “This man is the reason why your parents died. He was one of your father’s closest friends. He was their secret keeper, the only one who knew where they were hiding, and he betrayed them to me. Perhaps he wants to rid himself of the guilt by taking care of you… the choice is yours, child. Will you allow him to be your guardian?”

Harry took one look at the man who wore scraggly robes. His hair was a mess, and there were two front teeth protruding from his mouth making Harry think of how much he looked like a rat.

The enormity of the words the Dark Lord said didn’t hit him because he was still reeling from the idea that he would have more people watching his every move. He knew that his master was doing it out of concern but did he really want a traitor to his parents to take care of him?

He thought of the knowledge he might gain from him. If he believed Voldemort, perhaps the man would be able to share with him stories of how James and Lily once were…

“Well, Harry?”

Harry slowly shook his head.

“Anyone else?”

A man from the far right tilted his head, “Might I be of some assistance, My Lord?”

“Barty, my faithful follower. I have not considered you. I see your thoughts… I know your capabilities. You will do nicely.”

“It will be an honor, my Lord.”

Voldemort clapped. “Now then, there is still a body we must dispose of.” Voldemort smirked, his handsome features twisted in mirth as he switched to parseltongue, “ _Come, Nagini. You have not fed in a month. I assume this meal will be to your liking. She is nice and juicy.”_

And then, a massive snake appeared from underneath the table. She coiled around the chairs and the Death Eaters all but skittered away from her, unable to contain their gasps of terror.

Harry looked away when she stopped inches from the body which was slumped against the table. Nagini opened her mouth wide, and she easily swallowed the head. Porcelain began crashing to the floor… Harry closed his eyes.

Voldemort turned to Harry and whispered in parseltongue, “ _You are safe here. Whenever I am gone, my followers protect you.”_

Harry trembled, “ _Master, you didn’t need to kill her... Not for me."_

There were gasps of surprise when they all heard the boy speak in parseltongue.

Voldemort smiled, “ _My pet, this is how I quell disobedience in my ranks. This is a warning and a lesson for all of them.”_

* * *

The Dark Lord watched as the boy collapsed in his arms. The poison was working well, and soon it would render the child weak and unable to live without the cure.

Unable to breathe without his touch. The very air around him, poison to his lungs.

A sickness only alleviated by his magic and without it, the boy would perish. It would ensure no one would take the boy from him, like a flower who cannot live without its soil.

If they dare, the boy will suffer, before falling asleep, dead to the world. Frozen in suffering.

Taking him out of the glass cage was a difficult decision. He’d been tempted to isolate the child further, but he knew that if continued doing so, it would do irreparable damage to the boy’s psyche.

Harry Potter was falling apart. Worn off like stone that slowly turned into sand. Remade to his liking.

He was docile now. No fight left, no protest to his lips. Afraid to tell him what lay inside his mind. Voldemort pried it apart, more than once, uncaring if it caused Harry’s memories to fragment.

Harry was more than willing to let him in. If it stopped the pain.

“If it pleases you, master.”

The surrender.

It was silent. It was quiet. But it lingered, like an ever present wound, only to be soothed by him.

Like an addiction.

The boy would come to crave him and his presence would linger. Left with no one else to turn to, the boy would turn to him. For comfort. For assurance. For affection.

And yet Dumbledore’s words haunted him.

* * *

Freedom was a novelty he never expected to be given to him. The past few days in the manor, he had been treated well. Narcissa spoiled him, allowed him to have anything he wished for.

Snape came over once, announcing to him that, “The Dark Lord has allowed you back into Hogwarts for your third year of schooling. If you wish to participate, I suggest you read through all the books, and together with Barty, we will review the material. Now that our Lord has taken you under his wing, you cannot be an embarrassment. Even if I must drill the lessons down to your head, I will do it.”

His master told him, “My enemies know they cannot take you from me and you have been nothing but obedient, lately. You deserve this reward.”

* * *

But soon, he’d gone through all the books. He exhausted all that he could do within the room, and curiosity was getting the better out of him.

No one was awake, not at this time. He crawled out of his bed, wearing his white night clothes, still wrinkled.

He had not slept.

He stretched and soon summoned the courage to touch the door knob and twist.

The door opened with a quiet click. It swung, silently, the air giving a soft whoosh, causing the curtains to flutter. He stepped out and closed it beside him. Like a silent ghost.

One by one, the torches lit the dark hallway.

The Malfoy manor was lavish, to the point where dots of gold and glittered at a nondescript window sill.

It was quiet, and cold. Morning light having not filtered through the windows. Torches, greenish yellow, burning, and crackling.

His bare feet, padding through soft carpet. Large mahogany doors were to his left, and Harry gravitated towards it.

Books.

It filled two floors from the ground to ceiling. There were stairs on either side of the room which led upwards to a platform.

The smell was very familiar, and he recalled that not too long ago, he thought the same when he saw how large the library in the castle was.

Harry found himself climbing up the polished wooden steps, his fingers lingering on the many spines of books.

Something about this room called to him.

Dust motes floated above him. Light finally shining down, golden rays forming circular patterns on the very floor.

Harry clutched at his chest, feeling his heart constrict. His hands tried to grapple for support but instead he toppled many books down with him.

Harry slid to the floor.

Then it was gone. He was breathing harshly, and in his mind, he instinctively called out for his _‘Master’_

Harry felt his presence in his mind. His master's presence suffused him with warmth and left him a blanket of comfort. No words needed.

Just the assurance that if he ever needed help, his master would be there.

Harry attempted to stand up. He then put back the books from where they came from until Harry felt something warm at the tips of his fingers.

It was hidden underneath the wooden board of the shelf. A hidden alcove, carved to fit a book… He did not know why it must be hidden, and curiosity piqued, Harry pried it down and it came out after some effort.

He was looking at a nondescript leather book.

Harry opened it, and saw very faintly on the front page, the words T.M. Riddle.

Harry was filled with the urge to write on it. He could not understand why but he wanted to keep this blank diary. He planned to ask his master about it.

“Potter. What are you doing here?”

Harry’s head swerved around and it landed on the familiar face of his once school time rival. He hugged the diary to his chest.

“What is that? Put that back. My father would have your head if you start stealing stuff from our library.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, and he inched backwards, “I—”

“What’s so special about you? Why is it that you have it so easy? First you bewitch my mother into taking care of you, and you come here, treated like a prince—” “No, you have it all wrong.”

“Oh I know! I’ve heard them talking. They call you a whore.”

Harry groaned and felt his vision blur for a moment. He heard a faint scream, and a voice that said, _‘You don’t need to see this.’_

When he came to it, there was a hand covering his eyes, “Master.”

“Please forgive my son, my Lord. He is a child. Please show some mercy.”

Harry saw Narcissa wearing nothing but a nightgown, cradling her convulsing child. She was crying.

“Master. _Please. He didn’t harm me.”_

“ _He called you a whore. Do you even know what that word means?”_

Harry shook his head. He merely twisted around and pressed his head against the man’s torso. “Please, master.”

“Fine. But if he disrespects you again, he will pay.”

* * *

Voldemort led him towards the gardens. Voldemort took the diary from him earlier on and opened it. Harry watched him write, in perfect cursive.

Now, the diary sat on the middle of a table.

“Do you truly want to keep this?

Harry nodded. He swirled the tea on his cup nervously and watched the albino peacocks fluff their feathers. The sun was warm and they sat under the foliage, on white comfy chairs.

“You may have it, but you must take care of it, for it is very precious to me. Just as you are.”

Voldemort pushed the diary towards him.

“Thank you, master.”

Harry opened the blank pages, and he closed it once more, putting it beside his cup of tea.

“Why… do I feel like the the book is calling out to me?”

Voldemort combed through his hair, and smiled, “ _It holds a portion of my soul. A younger version of myself is within those very pages. I have conversed with it and he will not hurt you. Perhaps you will benefit from his companionship.”_

* * *

Harry was unsure at first but he began writing.

‘Master told me to write something.’

 

I heard you, calling out my name...

In the library.

 

**Hello, Harry. I’m very pleased to finally talk to you.**

**My older self shared stories with me.**

**Our human horcrux.**

**It truly is fascinating.**

 

Should I refer to you as master… as well?

What should I call you?

 

**Tom.**

**It is my given name.**

 

What is a horcrux?

He keeps telling me I have his soul…

That it merged with me and he can’t take it out.

 

**I’m surprised you haven’t asked him yourself**

**A horcrux is what keeps us immortal**

**In essence, Lord Voldemort**

**split our soul into many parts**

**ensuring death will never touch us.**

**You, my dear, are just one of the many pieces.**

**You should be honored.**

 

I am.

But I’m scared that… that’s all I am to him.

What if that’s all I’m good for?

 

**Think.**

**If that’s all you’re good for**

**he wouldn’t have let you out of the cage.**

**Perhaps he would’ve locked you up,**

**just like the rest of us.**

**Asleep for all eternity…**

**Can you even begin to imagine**

**just how terrifying that can be?**

* * *

Draco avoided him like the plague. The boy knew every nook and passageway he could hide in but Harry had been meaning to talk to him.

In the very end, he knew that whatever happened before he regained consciousness could have affected the other boy too much, that he could not get over it.

He knew the feeling all too well.

So in the end he settled for a letter to Narcissa.

Tom told him the words he wrote were too kind. But the next morning, he saw a letter slip inside his room.

And the words Thank You.

A messy scrawl, almost as if the other boy didn’t want to write it. But it was there.

* * *

They were in the ballroom. Just the two of them and Harry’s parents.

For this occasion, Lily and James Potter wore dress robes. For Lily, a white dress, and for James, a black tux with frills. For ten whole minutes, Lily Potter was stuck in the position of a curtsy. James Potter was bowing to her.

Living statues.

“They need souls, right?” Harry asked as he sat on his master’s lap. Voldemort nodded absently, eyeing the gramophone and willing it to begin playing the music.

Harry furrowed his brows when he watched Lily and James begin to dance to the music of some wizarding tune he never heard of.

“Is there a way to call back their souls?” Harry put a finger on his lips, in quiet thought.

The last time he saw his parents, they looked like zombies, with grey skin, and now, they could pass of for a living thing. If only they could talk and move with their own free will. The Dark Lord restored them to their former glory with the help of the elixir of life.

And it worked like. Magic.

“There is a way, my pet. However, the knowledge of it is long gone. Necromancers of old were rumored to hold the power to call upon the souls from the netherworld. Many considered this unnatural for they feared who or what they might call upon. It is the very same reason why many of us believe that immortality is deplorable. It is absurd when we have Vampires, and Nicholas Flamel, whose stone you have given to me. If a tree can live for more than five thousand years, why can’t we when we are far superior? When we have magic at our bidding… Our society is riddled with superstition and fear of the dead, and yet we cling to life as we know it.”

Voldemort very gently pushed him away and stood, “But I digress, I know of a way.”

The man bowed to him, and Harry laughed and mimicked the curtsy his mother did. For some reason, despite never having done this before, he knew how to dance. The Dark Lord smiled at this, “Harry, there is a legend… about a stone that can call forth the dead. It is called the resurrection stone. The legend has been reduced to a wizarding child’s tale, but there is a possibility that it is real.”

Harry twirled outwards then back in, and he saw his mother and father do the same.

“I think I read about it. Narcissa told me to read it. The Tales of Beedle the Bard. The one about Death… I know it.”

His master looked surprised, and all of a sudden, Harry felt himself dip to the ground, and Tom pulled him back up. “The unbeatable wand exists. Dumbledore has it. I have always suspected it was the rumored wand. I traced its history… and managed to ascertain that he has the Elder Wand. One of the Deathly Hallows.”

Harry frowned at the thought of Dumbledore. Thinking about Dumbledore sometimes gave him a minor headache. Like…

“If it exists. Then the stone must exist as well. Then there is a matter of the cloak, but that is another story, altogether. I believe… I found the stone. For in Dumbledore’s wand, from memory I saw the symbol of the hallows. The ring that houses my horcrux has the very same one.”

Harry blinked and stopped dancing.

“Does it mean you can bring them back to life?”

“Yes. And No,” Voldemort knelt, and from his pocket, he took out a ring. The very center held a stone that had the darkest shade of ebony, and etched on it was a triangle, and within it a circle, and at the very middle, a line.

“Hold out your hand, Harry.”

Harry slowly unfurled his hands, and the Dark Lord placed the ring on it.

“I have no use for it. I do not wish to see the dead. It is yours now.”

“But isn’t this another horcrux?”

“What is one other when you already have two? I know you will keep it safe.”

It was as if time froze and Harry could not understand the enormity of the gift.

“I tested its powers, and I have confirmed that this ring is in fact, the resurrection stone. You cannot use it for more than a few minutes. Tonight, if you wish to, you can summon their souls. I will be there to watch over you. A parting gift, before you leave for Hogwarts.”

Harry wrapped his arms around the Dark Lord as he whispered, “Thank you.”

* * *

Lord Voldemort watched from afar as the boy turned the stone over, once, twice, three times and called out the spirits.

Ghastly apparitions began to reform as Lily and James Potter.

“Mom, Dad? Is that really you?”

“Oh, Harry… You’ve grown, so much.”

He melded with the shadows but as he did, he saw twin eyes following his motion.

They know he was there. He could feel their resentment.

He listened to them converse, an outsider to a precious reunion, of the family he’d once ripped apart but was now trying to piece back together.

He waited for the moment the boy inevitably mentioned their plan.

And Voldemort knew that Lily and James, like any common man and woman would say, “No. My sweet child. It’s not right.”

“Your father and I, we’ve made peace in the afterlife.”

“But I need you, I want to be with you… I want a family. And we can do it!”

“Harry. Listen to me, you must not listen to that man. He is a monster. He will corrupt you.” James turned angry, all of a sudden.

Harry knew he was right but at the same time, his father was very wrong.

“I’m so sorry I’m not there to protect you. You’ve grown up so well, and now you’re—”

“Then live, for me! If you want to do something right… if you want to help me… please let me try.”

James shook his head.

“You cannot resurrect the dead, Harry. This kind of magic comes with a horrible price,” James said solemnly, “Harry, promise you will never use the stone for this purpose. If you do so, it will be too late.”

“We would not wish it upon you. It is the curse of the Hallows. It is time for us to go. Remember, Harry. We are with you, always… but in this, we are not.”

* * *

Harry arrived with his three guardian Death Eaters.

The Dark Lord was in front, leading the way.

Harry thought he’d never see the castle once more but here he was. His eyes were still red from crying the entire night, but he was numb from all the calming draughts they gave him.

Somehow he thought his parents hated him and hated the Dark Lord.

He looked upon the hallway and saw banners and banners of the Dark Mark.

Looking upon proof was different than just hearing it from his master and his follower’s mouths.

The doors to the Great Hall opened, and it was decked with green and silver.

And as the Dark Lord entered, there was only silence. Harry followed him inside.

But as soon as Harry stepped foot, he saw the stares. He saw as all the familiar faces stared at him in wonder.

“He’s alive.” “Merlin. It’s Harry Potter.” “What’s he doing here?”

Harry heard them whispering amongst themselves, and he matched the Dark Lord’s pace until the man reached the podium.

“Kneel.”

Harry was the first to do so.

And everyone else followed, until the entire hall all but prostrated themselves to the ground.

“Children, I welcome you once more to Hogwarts. For those of you who have lived here for many years, it might seem unfamiliar to you for so much has changed but I promise you that all this is for the betterment of our kind. Hogwarts is a place of learning, and I have grown tired of how much it has deteriorated over the years, so much so that we forgot our very roots, the very essence of our existence and of magic so to speak.

“And the essence is that magic is a gift that bends the laws of the world. It is a gift that we take for granted. Magic makes anything possible. It is a force within us that we cultivate to create miracles. It is what brings us one step closer to the realm of godhood. And yet, we have grown afraid of what it can do. We have at one point, started to categorize them, into many branches, many terms. Some have, in their fear and lack of capacity or understanding, labeled some as taboos, until so much of what we have worked on, thousands of years’ knowledge, is now gone to the world.”

Harry looked upon his master, his head raised in quiet wonder knowing full well that the others around him were doing the same.

“No longer will we be segregating Dark and Light magic. Wizarding culture and etiquette will be made prerequisite to our rare muggleborn additions. Ancient blood magic, dream magic, necromancy, alchemy, all this and more, will be offered and I demand that all of you must learn from it.”

Voldemort grinned as he let his magic escape the confines of his tightly formed control, letting his words, reverberate within the very heads of each child, within the room. “Treat this is an opportunity to soak up all the knowledge for as much as you can. To those of you who excel and help revive that which has been lost or ultimately create something new, the Empire will generously reward you, for in magic, there is only power and those too weak to seek it. Rise.”

When they all rose, there was a collective applause. The Dark Lord’s handsome features smiled, and the applause continued until his master held up a hand.

The Dark Lord motioned for him to come and Harry did so, without hesitation. They sat at the head of the staff table. Harry Potter was to the Dark Lord’s right.

Severus Snape soon took over, announcing the new additions to the staff.

And then, the sorting began.

The Dark Lord held his hand and brushed his fingers against Harry Potter’s left hand, lingering upon the boy’s ring finger where the resurrection stone lay.

* * *

When the feast ended, Harry remained with the Dark Lord. Many eyes lingered upon them, but Harry was very good at ignoring them.

Harry was like an ornament, only speaking when spoken to, but otherwise he kept his mouth shut. He quietly observed his professors and the students who remained behind. Prefects who were being taught their new roles.

One Slytherin was careful to ask, “We are concerned about the threat of the Order. My father works for the ministry and shared with me that they are still at large. Many of us wish to know how safe we truly are here at Hogwarts.”

Severus Snape smiled as he answered the question, “Fret not for we have taken it upon ourselves to deal with the utter lack of security within the castle. A team of unspeakables, ward masters, curse breakers and the vast majority of our Lord’s most trusted examined every possible way the Order might enter these premises and have thought of ways to counter every one of them.”

“When before, any intruder can waltz in undetected, now they cannot. And if they do, they will most assuredly die. We now have blood wards and anyone not keyed into it will not be allowed entry. We have dementors roaming the edges of the wards, Dragons, at each gate.”

Snape’s robes billowed as he “The very intricacies of the castle’s protections, I need not mention, but know that we have not left any nook and cranny untouched. However, there is always a possibility of a traitor within our midst and because of this, some privileges have to be sacrificed. Our Lord has put together a team of mind healers, whose only purpose is to look into your minds and determine if you are loyal or not.

”Letters will be monitored. Any other form of communication will be monitored. We live in a time of tenuous peace. Until the Empire of the Dark Lord is safely established, everyone must follow this, even the little ones that have just joined us today.”

Severus Snape raised his hand, and to each of the prefects, he gave a new badge, “In the unlikely chance that there is trouble in this castle, touch the badge in a circular motion. It will allow you to quickly communicate with us and alert the ministry of the threat. Use it only as a last resort, not for petty squabbles or measly concerns.”

* * *

“ _Open.”_

Harry hissed, and the door unraveled to admit him and the Dark Lord.

Voldemort strolled inside with him and Harry saw a massive room with ceiling charmed to show him the view of the heavens. Hedwig hooted at her perch, her feathers quite ruffled but she fluttered her wings in excitement at seeing him.

It held a small library of books, a kitchenette at one corner, a wall that held a broom and a photograph of his parents.

From what he could see, there was a large archway that led to a marble tub. Tall glass windows which easily spanned three floors high showed him a panoramic view of the Lake and the Black Forest.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. Thank you master but I… I… don’t need all this. I mean… I—”

Voldemort put a finger on his lips, and traced it. “I know you wish to be with your fellow Gryffindors but I must take every precaution when it comes to you.”

“Why?”

“Why ever not? This is the least I can do…after all that’s happened.”

Harry’s breath was shaken. It was the closest to an apology he’s ever heard from his master.

The Dark Lord led him to the window which shimmered open leading to a balcony. The wind was cold and pleasant against Harry’s flushed cheeks.

The boy placed his hand on the marble balustrade, gazing at the moon and the reflection it had on the lake, just taking in that this was what he thought he lost, once upon a time.

He still felt like he was dreaming. As if he couldn’t believe he was back.

They shared a companionable silence for awhile.

Voldemort looked away from Harry and breathed in the air, looking for a moment as if he was untroubled by all the world’s concerns. An easy smile was on his face, one of contentment.

It echoed both ways.

“Hogwarts has been the only home I know of. In my youth, I would have sacrificed the dream of conquering this world, if only I was allowed to teach here.”

Harry raised his brows, “Y-You wanted to be a professor?”

“I greatly admired magic. I wanted to teach Defense against the Dark Arts. It was my favorite subject for it was what allowed me to survive my early years when I was sorted into Slytherin, ostracized for having Riddle as my last name. Professor Merrythought had just retired after fifty years of teaching, he knew who we needed and he recommended me to the staff, knowing full well that I am capable for the job.”

Voldemort shared the vision, and Harry knew then that the Dark Lord was telling him nothing but the truth.

“Dumbledore and the headmaster before him, Professor Armando Dippet, told me that they could not accept me when I just graduated, even if my marks were the highest Hogwarts has ever seen in centuries. I was too young and inexperienced.”

Voldemort laughed at this and Harry wondered what it must have felt like for his master. He looked out into the night sky.

“So I travelled. And in my travels, I gained knowledge. I immersed myself into learning. At this point in time, I had many followers, and yet I had no use of them… I had no wish to conquer for I was chasing a childish dream. But it was during these travels that I began to solidify my purpose in this world. I had the power to change it. If I could somehow put it to use and make the world to my liking...”

Harry watched the many visions pass through his head, the forests of Albania, the ancient Aztec ruins, Tikal of the Mayan sorcerers and reading from within their tombs the earliest forms of blood magic. He went to Egypt and from within its very pyramids, he began learning of necromancy and how to practice it even when one is not born with its talent.

He learned of the many ways people from ages long past tried to achieve immortality. And if he were to believe what he’d read, there were few stories of those who have transcended mortal life, but it came with a heavy price.

Harry saw the jungles of Amazon, where nomadic tribes practiced advanced forms of divination and dwelled with the company of centaurs and other creatures so deeply intertwined with the magic of the planet itself.

Tom Riddle even visited the main Schools of Magic, if just briefly, to learn and even assist in teaching in disguise. There was Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, Castelobruxo, Mahoutokoro, Uagadou, and finally Ilvermorny in North America where he realized that one of its founders was a Gaunt. It was a dangerously egalitarian school that valued democratic thought, and free will which he disliked.

As he travelled, he saw the many casualties of war. The damage that has penetrated deep into the earth’s soil where life struggled to exist and not one solution to counter it. He learnt of human suffering once he immersed himself in the mind arts and sought to understand that which he feared. To see, if there was hope for muggles or if his belief ever since he was a child held through.

What he saw in their minds disgusted him, especially at the leaders they put at the helm of each country where a sizable portion only cared about their self-interest. The wizarding world had the same problem but it was at a smaller scale where the only issue is that of blood purity. For muggles, the problem stemmed from thousands of years of misguided belief that one’s race, color, religion, gender, age, and education… mattered, and that their ilk is superior to that of another.

Muggles were vermin as a whole. They were unrepentant for the destruction they had wrought around them and he had a deep seated grudge that stemmed from being a victim of their indifference. He thought that no amount of effort to rally for their peaceful coexistence will reduce their greed, especially when history had enough proof that muggles fear those that they could not understand, could not conquer and could not become.

Unless of course, they were elevated to Gods. And Tom pursued the knowledge of not only being immortal, but had plans of becoming strong enough to rival a God from myths of old. Strengthening his mortal flesh, to a point where only the killing curse could be effective enough to kill him. It was clear what path he must take.

“Twenty years later when I came back, it was a whim that I returned to a place I called home. I saw the position for Defense was open and once again, applied however Dumbledore was seated as the new headmaster. I showed him the fruits of my labor and yet he rejected me, thinking that I will use the opportunity to corrupt the minds of his students. You see, Dumbledore hated me from the very moment he saw me. As a child, he burned my only possessions to prove his point. He called me a thief. A liar. Many things. And I glimpsed upon his mind mistrust and distaste for my existence. In my anger, I cursed the position for years.”

“You what?” Harry was unsure at what to feel about this, but there was a smile on his lips.

Voldemort smirked, and his eyes were filled with mirth as he continued, “If I could not have it, then no one shall. It brought me great satisfaction that Dumbledore never found a way to remove the curse. That even with his many years of wisdom, in this matter, he could not best me.”

Harry found himself laughing, at his master’s pettiness, and for finally uncovering the mystery that plagued the minds of those who resided within Hogwarts.

“I have one other gift, for you.” Voldemort took his hands and led him towards the bed, where a box with holes at the side lay.

“Open it.”

Harry was wary but he obeyed the command. Inside the white box lay a rock which was warm to touch. It had wet wooden shavings. Curled upon the rock was a tiny form with the thickness of his finger. Soon a tiny snake peered out, rising curiously.

Its eyes looked up at him, and before swerving to the Dark Lord. It tasted the air with its tongue.

Harry held out his hand and instantly, the snake coiled backwards. Harry was overcome with his instincts, “ _Don’t be afraid, little one. I won’t hurt you.”_

“ _No hurt?”_

“ _No. I won’t harm you. Come closer… I’m very warm.”_

The way the spines of its face formed, the shape of its face. It reminded him of, ‘Could it be?’

Harry’s heart went out to the small thing as it slowly slithered up his fingers and with wide eyes he looked up at the Dark Lord who was looking at him with amusement. “Is this a basilisk?” Harry asked.

Voldemort smirked, “On the attack of Hogwarts, I lost Elicia… and for months I have attempted to create basilisks. This is merely one from the clutch that survived.”

Harry watched as the basilisk wound all around his fingers, before climbing up his robes, and settling around his shoulders, making itself comfy underneath the hood of his uniform.

“I don’t even know… how to take care of her… or him?”

“Her. I will send you books. You are a parselmouth like me. This should come easy to you.”

“But aren’t they dangerous to be around? I… don’t know, master.”

Voldemort simply placed a hand on his head and patted him. “There is no need to worry. I trust you.”

“This is too much… why are you being so kind? I don’t understand it at all. Is there something you want from me?”

And, Voldemort pressed his forehead close, before kissing Harry softly on his forehead.

“A mere parting gift. When I leave this room, there is country that needs to be ruled and even more to conquer. _But you know what I want, dear child and I will not take it from you.”_

Their breaths mingled and Harry reached a horrible conclusion.

“I won’t see you again? You’re leaving me behind?”

“I will see you back at yule.”

“What am I to you, master? Am I still just a pet?”

The diary alluded to it before. Tried to point it out. That Harry was too young to understand things so he’d rather leave him clueless, but now Harry had the courage to ask. He did not know where it came from.

“I want to know… please.”

This was madness. Utter madness. So very wrong. This was the very same man that continued to feed him poison, locked him up in a glass cage, killed his parents, massacred people. A monster, who was more than willing to eliminate all the muggles in the face of the planet.

A madman.

And yet, Harry wanted to know.

“You are something more, child. You are more than just a pet. Must I truly spell it out for you? Shall I send flowers to go along with it?”

Harry could not feel his cheeks.

“Do not ask me to stay.”

Harry swallowed, and his hands went to his collar, adjusting it, licking his lips, “Master—”

“Voldemort… There is no need for formalities when it is just the two of us.”

And there were lips upon his, biting his lower lip, “Voldemort,” Harry tasted the name on his lips.

And then, a thought. Of the name the Diary chose and Harry shyly said, “Tom…?”

The Dark Lord’s eyes narrowed. And Harry thought he might have pushed his luck, but soon, there was a tongue inside his mouth and he was just a bundle of nerves.

“Only you, Harry… in private. I’ll allow you the use of this name... Now,” The Dark Lord tried to push himself away from the thirteen-year-old who stared at him with an emotion he could not quite understand. “I have to go, Harry.”

And after kissing his forehead, he said, “Make me proud.”

* * *

He managed to lose the prefects, just for a few moments but it was replaced by two people he did not want to ever talk to or deal with.

“So what are you now? A traitor?”

“Ron, Stop. You don’t mean that,” Hermione said, pulling Ron behind her but chasing after Harry.

“I have no time for you.” Harry ran.

“Harry, Please, wait. We just want to talk. We heard from his mother, and they saw you in the cage.”

Harry’s eyes widened at that.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Harry! I still believe in you. I know that deep down inside you, you’re still the Harry I know. That unlike what everyone thinks, you’re not the next Dark Lord, or a Death Eater.”

“Well Hermione, I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m worse.”

They kept chasing him and his breath was labored.

“Can you please, stop!” Hermione shouted. “Petrifigus Totalus.”

“Protego.” Harry put up a spell and huffed, “What is wrong with both of you?”

Ron shot a “stupefy” spell, and it ricocheted across the wall, causing the suits of armor to fall to the floor, “Ah… I didn’t mean to do that.”

Harry turned around, “Ron, Hermione. Please. Listen. I know you want answers. I want to give them to you, but I can’t. The Dark Lord will kill you and I’ll be miserable. I’m happy that you’re both alive. That’s all.”

And then, Harry felt a wave of vertigo. He fell against the wall. He was gasping for breath.

“Harry?” Came Hermione’s voice.

“Mate… what are you… what’s wrong with you? Are you sick?” Ron hurried towards him, kneeling.

Harry gasped, and for the first time, he realized, he couldn’t move… This has never happened before.

“There’s a red…. v-vial. Inside…. My right pocket. Have to drink… all of it.”

Hermione searched for it, and uncorked the vial, pouring the contents in Harry’s mouth.

He continued gasping. Raspy breaths, but unable to faint.

And instantly, Harry relaxed.

“Harry… oh God, I missed you.” Hermione hugged him.

“Go away.”

Harry pushed her away.

“Don’t, Hermione. Whatever… we had? It’s in the past… I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want my master… to hurt the two of you. I’m glad, you’re safe. Just please… leave me alone. It’s better, like this.”

“You can’t just tell that to us after what we saw.”

And Severus Snape arrived, “And what did you see?”

“Headmaster.” Hermione greeted, looking for all the world like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Look at me, Granger. Tell me what happened.”

“He couldn’t breathe. I had to give him the potion.”

“Obliviate.”

And he turned to see Ron who looked pale as a ghost.

“Obliviate.”

Harry sighed when he saw the two bodies fall to the floor.

“You foolish boy. The prefects follow you around for a reason.”

* * *

Throwing himself into studies granted him the respect of his peers.

In the meantime, he consulted with Barty of all people and the man stared at him with obvious discomfort.

“Harry. This is between you and the Dark Lord. You must not speak to anyone about this.”

“But I’m so confused. And my chest hurts.”

“From the poison?”

“No. When I think of master. It hurts. What is this?”

“You long to serve him, worshipping our Lord like a God. It happens to the best of us within our Lord’s the inner circle. We live to serve his cause. We will do anything to please him. I know you feel the same, child. You are favored. You are blessed. Our master considers you irreplaceable. He even announced to the world that you are his most faithful… To think that your very blood courses within his veins and his through yours… and I only wish to… worship him.”

Barty took his hands and stared at his wrists. The man licked his lips.

Harry stole his hand away, after hearing Barty’s voice in his head, “If only I can have a taste… of that blood. That fine blood… It would be so precious. My master’s blood.”

Disturbed, knowing full well that Barty did not open his mouth to speak at all, Harry muttered an excuse. “I have to get back to class, Barty.”

.

.

.

Bartemius Crouch Jr. looked at the empty space in his office, wondering what gave him away and laughed at the boy’s sloppily put excuse.

“But Harry… It’s a Sunday.”

He began writing a quick letter to the Dark Lord. He then summoned a vial. With a soft incantation, he pulled a copy of the memory out of his head and placed it within, sealing it with cork stopper. He wrapped them both in within a brown package and snapped his fingers, calling for a house elf. “Send this to my master.”

The elf bowed.

It will soon find itself in Bulgaria where the Dark Lord was laying siege to Durmstrang, out for the head of Igor Karkaroff.

* * *

It has not even been a month since the Dark Lord left and the whole of Hogwarts feared Harry Potter.

He was an enigma whose gaze was always far and whose only companion was a pet basilisk and his owl familiar.

Rumor has it that he once cursed an older Gryffindor student for messing with him and let his pet basilisk have a bite. The said Gryffindor almost died, for even as a baby, the Basilisk’s venom is potent.

The boy would hiss unabashedly in parseltongue and upon hearing it, many would shiver and cower in fear.

There were many who wished to hurt the boy, but they could not do anything for the boy was always followed by prefects, leading him from one class to another.

They all wondered what happened to him ever since he disappeared that night when he was an innocent first year student.

A year was enough to change a person, and his mannerisms, and physical appearance had changed. He had pale skin, evident that he spent too long indoors. His unruly bird’s nest of a hair turned soft and wispy, bringing out the color of his green eyes which now did not hide behind big ugly glasses.

The girls fell for him. Those who tried to approach him, said the experience was electrifying, for he would gaze long and hard, as if he was reading through their very souls. And eerily, he knew what they wanted, what they needed before even asking.

Occasionally, Harry Potter would clutch at his chest, and drink a blood red potion. Many theorize the boy had been turned into part vampire, but when asked, Harry was caught to have said, “Is this a joke?”

And among them were former friends, whose worries had yet to be assuaged. Denial in their hearts that the Harry Potter they once knew was gone.

* * *

Harry Potter was in fact growing listless for during the year he spent in captivity, he’s forgotten how it was like to approach people, and feared they might not want to talk to him.

So whenever his former friends were not looking, he’d observe them from afar. Ron and Hermione seem alive and well. And for him, that was all that mattered.

He wasn’t lonely, for he had enough on his plate. The Dark Lord has not replied to his letters.

As if content to ignore his existence.

But he was running out of options and one fine day, he approached Draco Malfoy who blinked at him. His pet Basilisk peaked out from under his collar.

“ _A friend? He smells good, master.”_

“Draco. I wish to speak with Narcissa.”

“Now?”

Harry nodded.

Draco sighed and said, “I’ll try to get in touch with her.”

The Basilisk that sat around Harry’s neck hissed and leaned closer to the Malfoy heir, scenting him. “She seems to really like you… She’s never done that with anyone before.”

Harry confusedly began running his fingers all over his pet which sat on his shoulders and was attempting to crawl the length of his hands.

Then, he spoke in parseltongue, green eyes utterly uncaring of how the whole floor suddenly quieted and the Slytherins began staring at him in admiration and adoration.

Draco began preening at the sudden attention until Harry nodded. “She wants to stay with you for today. Don’t worry. She won’t bite and when she gets tired of you, she’ll know where to find me. Let me know when your mother is coming for a visit?”

“B-but Harry. Are you sure she won’t kill me?”

Harry laughed at this, and shook his head. “She’s harmless. She’ll tire of you soon enough.”

* * *

Narcissa arrived within a few hours and Harry invited her to his chambers. They sat on the small table he had by the window. The afternoon sun painted the lake a lovely shade of orange.

As always, his first guardian was prim and proper. Her hair was up in a bun and she looked sharp wearing expensive dark robes only Malfoy galleons can buy. By now, he knew which material was _expensive_  enough to pay for muggle house or two.

“Tea?”

“Yes, please,”

Harry poured it onto pretty china, having gotten used to the banal activity that Narcissa herself drilled upon him. Apparently the practice wasn’t just muggle, it was equally pureblood. The only difference was that wizards employed magic and their tea tasted so much better.

“Draco mentioned that you have set a basilisk upon him.”

Harry denied it, “No… you’ve got it all wrong. I swear he exaggerates everything. Iris just likes him and she gets very whiny when she doesn’t get her way. So I let her stay with him. I expect she’ll get bored and start hunting for mice around the castle by dusk.”

“I see.” Narcissa shakily agreed.

“Is there a problem?”

“It _is_ a **basilisk** , Harry.” Narcissa had to stress upon the word.

“A baby. She listens to me. I told her not to bite Draco even if he annoys her.”

Narcissa flattened her skirt, and raised her chin, “For a moment, I thought you were out to kill him and I came as soon as I read the message only to find him missing. Where is he?”

“Possibly in a Dark Arts secret society club. A Slytherin thing. You should know it. The Knights of the Walpurgis? They sent me a message saying something about how I am fated to be a part of their uh… study group. I already study enough.” He gestured at the books that lined the shelf. “Severus said I should finish reading everything by the end of this year.”

“I’m quite familiar with that group. To think they’d revive it. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your summons?”

Harry then took out his holly wand, and silently levitated a pile of letters.

“These… have all been returned to me.”

He placed it in the middle of the table and Harry's shoulders sagged.

“Does master hate me now? Am I not useful anymore? He told me I am not his pet… not quite in those words… and before he left, he was so mad...I—”

Narcissa considered the boy before him, and held his hand, “You wish to speak to him?”

Harry slowly shook his head.

“Then? What is the purpose of all these letters?”

“I don’t think I can talk to him. I’m scared and I only have the courage to put down my thoughts on paper. My mind just goes blank.”

Narcissa looked concerned, “Has he harmed you in any way? Is your condition worsening?”

“It’s not that, but… but nowadays, my chest hurts when I think of master. I think that’s what’s wrong. I feel sad.”

Narcissa’s face changed from concerned to neutral in a matter of moments, “You miss him.”

“Is this what missing someone feels like? Barty thinks it happens to all of you, how… sometimes we feel too devoted to the cause and I didn’t quite understand what else he said.”

“Harry. That man has never had a relationship with anyone except his mother and father. Neither have been very kind to him. In matters of the heart, I am the expert. And please, tell me that you have not gone to Severus for this.”

“No.”

Narcissa sighed with relief, “Good, or he would have visited Lucius and I and drank himself to death. That man cares for you a lot, and he does not show it but he does. He might not be able to stay objective if he knew what I knew.”

Harry frowned and took a sip of his tea, before asking, “What do you know?”

Harry was taking another sip when Narcissa said unrepentantly, “That you love the Dark Lord.”

The boy spluttered and started coughing. Narcissa rolled her eyes but cast a quick scourgify.

Narcissa watched the boy deflate and gone was the pureblood mannerisms as Harry simply slumped on the table, groaning, “Is this what it is?”

“Well, perhaps it’s a simple case of infatuation but it looks like you’ve been crying?”

Harry nodded.

“You think of him, often enough, and your heart hurts. You miss him, and beyond that, you want his affection. You’re afraid to be rejected so you write letters instead, to compose your thoughts.” Harry winced at that.

“You’ve written more than twenty letters in less than two months and not even Draco writes us that often. And this is nothing to be embarrassed about. Then, given all that, it seems like this is more than a simple crush… but you are too young to be seeking a relationship with a man who is more than five times your senior but. Dear. Salazar. Is that a ring on your finger…? Harry, when did you get it…?”

Harry touched the ring, “This? Master gave it to me the night before I left for Hogwarts.”

“That is the Gaunt ring. A heirloom from our Lord’s Family.” Narcissa pursed her lips, and began observing, the crystal chandelier that hung upon the boy’s room decorated with translucent white dragon scales. She saw the fresh batch of white roses that sat by a large white vase next to the marble tub. It looked too fanciful. With gold and diamond glittering upon its sides.

“Is he courting you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me rephrase that. Have you received anything of value, in the past few months? Have you noticed anything out the ordinary?”

Harry pursed his lips, “Uh. Does this count as one? The Ancient Creatures Herpetology Guide. It’s a handwritten book. Master signed it himself… I wanted to thank him for it.”

“What about the flowers?”

Harry tried to recall, when was it that he saw those flowers and realized they were not there before. Not until after that night.

Then he recalled the conversation as his mouth opened to a gasp.

**“You are something more, child. You are more than just a pet. Must I truly spell it out for you? Shall I send flowers to go along with it?”**

“Who would have thought our Lord would honor old courting rituals. He doesn’t hate you at all Harry, in fact, I believe the Dark Lord wishes to marry you.”

* * *

Harry closed his eyes and curled up.

Was this okay?

He rolled the ring, once… and stopped. He knew his parents would disapprove.

Instead, he concentrated from within him, calling out to the connection.

“Tom?”

There was a flicker of awareness. And Harry opened his eyes only to see a head fly off and a pile of bodies beneath his feet.

Blood coated the floor.

**“Harry. I’m busy”**

The Death Eaters knelt, as one by one, they piled the bodies to the side of the wall.

“Where are you?”

“ **Bulgaria. Hunting Igor Karkaroff and taking over the ministry in the process. Killing everyone that dares to protest.”**

Harry saw and felt the Dark Lord flick his wand to the floor, and a splatter of blood followed with it.

“Burn the bodies.”

The Dark Lord watched with satisfaction as the whole hall, twice the size of the great hall of Hogwarts, was covered in flames. The Death Eaters from within soon came out and rejoiced.

Bellatrix sauntered close to him looking disappointed.

“We tried to find him, my Lord, but he is not here. We’ve failed you.”

“No. I felt him. Just before we stepped inside. Perhaps he severed his own arm and hid in time. But my magic still lingers like a taint. Still, do not fret, my dear Bella. You have done well. Today is a victory. Come.”

Harry saw this and called out, “Tom.”

“ **Harry, it’s late. This is not something I wish you to see.”**

“I love you.”

The Dark Lord stopped walking. “My Lord.” Bellatrix asked, and stepped closer to gaze at her master’s face, which was twisted in shock, and soon, a very satisfied smile spread.

“Meet me at the entrance within an hour. There is something I must do.”

The Dark Lord vanished.

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes, he saw the Dark Lord beside him.

“You have my attention, child.”

But Harry buried his face in the pillows.

“Don’t hide from me. I heard it. I want you to say it again.”

Harry made a frustrated sound. “I … you.”

Voldemort pulled the covers of his body and clambered on the bed, uncaring of the blood.

Green eyes peeked out from the safety of the white pillows and he saw the Dark Lord, in dark Dragon Hide armor, traces of blood, plastered all around him. It looked as if he bathed himself in it, since his hair was plastered backwards, and blood kept trickling down the side of his face... down his neck...

It made a mess on his bed. It smelled strongly of iron.

Tom smelled like sweat. Blood. And fire.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

The Dark Lord grinned, and his gaze turned feral, “You bring out the worst in me.”

* * *

Harry soon found himself pressed on dirty marble, with ash on his cheeks, staring at the half burned corpses of the Bulgaria’s Wizarding Militia.

“I tried to be patient, Harry.”

The Dark Lord tore his robes, fingers tearing skin.

“I know.”

“I’m a monster.”

“I know.”

“I’ll hurt you… and make you scream.”

“Tom. I’ve seen your memories. I’ve been inside your head. I want you. I want this… please. I missed you so much...”

Tom tugged at his hair and bit his neck. “You will regret this,” biting through skin.

Harry gasped at the pain and the echoing pleasure that coursed through the bond.

And then, there was a warm tongue lathering on the wound. Meanwhile, the Dark Lord’s familiar hand trailed down and began pumping him. Harry’s eyes watered and he blinked to the sight of someone struggling to dig underneath the pile of corpses.

Gasping for help. Looking at him, and then at the Dark Lord.

Was this what he really wanted?

“Harry. Bite.”

It was his torn nightclothes, tied around his head. And Harry whimpered as a dry finger entered him from behind.

“I’ll fuck you here. With the corpses of my enemies. To celebrate my victory… and every victory to come. You want this.”

Harry could feel it, the Dark Lord’s glee, as he pressed in and Harry screamed, because it burned. His legs struggling underneath him, as Voldemort didn’t wait for him to adjust.

The only pleasure he felt was the echo from the connection and yet it was enough. Even as he felt the slick of his own blood coat his master’s cock. It was enough for Harry to feel hard.

“More. Agghhhh More…. Please…. So… good.”

“Your body… just swallows me up.”

Voldemort twisted the Harry around, so he was lying on his back. Harry squeezed his eyes shut when the Dark Lord pulled out, only to push himself back in.

“Hgnnnnhhh”

He was closing his legs at the pain, and Voldemort noted this, “Don’t fight me.”

As his hands pressed on the boy’s thighs, Harry felt the loss of control, as if his body became a mere puppet that the Dark Lord could manipulate to his will. And it was then that fear flitted in his eyes because he could still feel everything.

Voldemort kissed his lips as he stretched his legs wide open and, pushing in.

“Agh… H-hurts…”

“But we've only just begun, Harry.”

* * *

“Rennervate”

When Harry opened his eyes. It was to pain and to the face that haunted his every dream.

With his voice in his head.

**“Harry. Say it again”**

Heard it.

Felt it.

The slapping of flesh, and the wet sound of his master’s dick buried inside him.

“I love you,” against the gag.

Voldemort wrapped his hands around his neck.

“Say it again.”

Harry choked the words out, but could not speak it.

He could hardly put up a struggle and his eyes flitted and saw the Dark Lord had both of his hands stabbed with a dagger to the floor

Harry started crying.

When Voldemort let go, he was gasping for breath.

From the large doorway, he saw a Death Eater appear.

And Harry just lay there, like a toy for the Dark Lord’s pleasure, mouthing, “I love you.”

The Dark Lord grunted and Harry felt him contract before pulling out.

He tucked himself in, untying the gag, and dissolving the dagger.

Harry found himself being pulled into the Dark Lord’s arms, carried away like a bride.

And then, nothing.

* * *

The Dark Lord dressed him in white. He had the healers deal with the worst of injuries, and kept him beside him.

He saw for the first time, what lengths the Dark Lord was willing to hunt down traitors and how much one man’s mistake can affect the fate of the entire country.

For two days, he watched the Dark Lord commit atrocity after atrocity.

And at night, the witches and wizards conducted a revel. Pureblood witches and wizards letting loose their savagery as they danced to the corpses of their victims.

For every night Igor Karkaroff is not found, a hundred from the small population of Bulgaria would be killed. It did not matter if they were children, muggleborn or pureblood.

And it was through their collective fear that they found him.

The man was tied to the floor and Voldemort smiled at him, and gave him one sweet kiss.

“Harry. Hit him with a curse.”

But Harry had no nerve to do it and Voldemort kissed his forehead, “So weak, Harry. How innocent.”

Voldemort stared at his eyes and smiled, “I know you do not have it in you to hurt anyone. However, Tonight… when I finally tire of his screams, I will have you kill him. Will you do this for me?”

Harry pressed his face against Voldemort’s chest, closed his eyes and nodded.

* * *

He came back to Hogwarts a murderer.

A Death Eater sent him off with instructions that he must return to his room at once. At that point, Harry wished nothing but the comfort of his bed. He wanted a healer to give him a thousand numbing potions, and perhaps he had to check if Draco had been bitten by the basilisk.

Just moments before, the Dark Lord was feeding him breakfast and massaging his feet. Kissing it.

He was dressed in white and looking forward to being back to Britain when the Order of the Phoenix appeared.

Minerva McGonagall led the rebels and said, “Give us the boy.”

“ _I will see you tonight._ ”

“Take him to Hogwarts,” He was sent away to safety before he could see the ensuing battle.

Everything was too bright. Too loud. None of the children within the castle saw what he saw. Felt what he felt…

And Harry felt, different.

He went on autopilot and saw Draco sitting at the middle of the Slytherin table.

Iris looked quite comfy around Draco’s shoulders. “ _Iris. Come._ ”

“ _Master, I like Draco. Can I keep him?”_

Harry shook his head, and said, “ _You don’t keep people as pets.”_

And then, the irony of what he said just hit him.

“Harry, are you alright?”

Harry’s lips trembled. He recalled the past two days.

He should have waited.

He should have stayed.

Did he regret it?

“Harry!”

He collapsed on the floor, clutching at his heart.

* * *

“Make the choice, my Lord. His condition will worsen if you do not treat his body now. It might damage his core.”

Voldemort looked at Harry, but Harry could not see, having gone blind. Green eyes were clouded with milky white.

“How long do we have until he dies?”

Snape considered the toxin eating at the boy’s heart. “A year at most, my Lord.”

“Can you suffer for me, for a year, Harry? Your body will gradually grow weaker, to the point where you will hardly be able to move. And then, you will lose the rest of your senses and eventually death. Can you do it?”

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation at all.

“Go on then, Severus.”

Harry closed his eyes.

“Save him.”

* * *

Harry was fifteen. It took two years to clean his system off the curse. In those two years, the Order of the Phoenix has been rounded up.

Dumbledore was crucified in the Dark Lord’s castle. Kept alive but only barely.

Albus Dumbledore stared at him with disappointment.

“You were the chosen one… You could have defeated him. No one else stands the chance.”

But Harry saw the prophecy himself, and nowhere did it state that he had to kill the Dark Lord.

“I love him and I’m sorry, but I’m tired of helping. I want to be selfish, for once.”

“Harry, my boy… You will regret it. Just like I did.”

* * *

Harry stretched his arms as they walked along the lake, and for the first time in years, Harry could breathe.

“It’s hard to love you, do you know that?” Harry asked.

“And yet, you do.” Voldemort replied, walking slower at a sedate pace.

“Unfortunately.”

Harry kicked the grass.

“You’re a horrible person…”

“I know.”

Harry saw a random flower growing a few paces before them. He snapped it at its stalk and turned around, impulsively reaching over the Dark Lord’s ear.

“Here, I have nothing… so I’m giving you a flower. So you don’t look like a scary Dark Lord anymore. Can you, smile?”

Harry already grew but he was still a head shorter than the Dark Lord. Harry took out a camera, one he borrowed from a boy named Collin Creevey, and snapped a picture.

He then took out the film from the Polaroid and saw that instead of smiling, the Dark Lord was rolling his eyes. Harry fanned the film a little and placed it gently inside his breast pocket.

Harry turned around and wiped his eyes, “God I hate goodbyes...”

Voldemort smiled.

“So… Ilvermorny…” Harry’s voice trailed off.

“It’s an English school, full of peace-loving fools. It will be away from me and the war. You’ll like it there.”

Harry nodded and grinned.

“I’ll miss you.”

His lover did not reply. And Harry punched him. Tom carded his hands on his hair, giving him a long, smouldering stare. And he placed a kiss on the boy’s scar. And then, tilted the boy’s chin and leaned downwards to kiss him even more.

All good things had to end and Tom gave him a smaller peck before letting go.

“You’re free to travel wherever you wish. The diary and the ring will protect you.”

“Is this really necessary?”

“Two years, Harry. I want you to think before you decide to spend an eternity with me. I want you to take your time and consider if this is what you really want. I’m letting you go for your own good. Because if you say yes.”

“Yes?”

Voldemort smirked and continued, “If you agree to it, I will never let you go.”

Harry was quite confident, “This is another one of your stupid tests, because you can’t trust me even when you know that I feel the same. So fine. I’ll do it. I’ll go away.”

And Harry heard laughter. His parents were waving at him. “Harry, we just got the portkey! Let’s go!”

Beside his parents, there were two younger versions of the Dark Lord and they both look bored. One of them was sitting on a basket, and he could see Iris peeking out from the carrying hole, with her flickering tongue.

* * *

Voldemort gave his beloved a small push, watching the green eyed youth rush to his parents, the same spirits Harry pulled from the dead and tethered to the corpses sustained only by the elixir of life. He only had to tinker with their minds a little and they hardly suspected anything was amiss.

Harry gave one last wave before using the portkey and vanishing.

There was a muggle saying, ‘If you love someone, set them free. If they come back they're yours. If they don't they never were.’

Lord Voldemort's gaze lingered on the empty spot.

'If you are not mine then no one will have you. So you better come back.'

**Author's Note:**

> Did you enjoy reading it? If you have some feedback, whether good or bad, let me know! I enjoy reading comments a lot. Also, I made a fanart inspired by this. You can find it in [To the Ends of the World with You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18518245) which I think the art is better suited for.
> 
> つ ◕_◕ ༽つ


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